


every lie you've heard

by coldmackerel



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Pretty in Pink AU, and this time we're gonna get it right, but its a lil funny, cw: mild bullying and underage drinking, high schoolers being terrible, only gay, the ending we all deserved from that movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldmackerel/pseuds/coldmackerel
Summary: waverly doesn't feel like she's being dramatic when she says that being seventeen, poor, and dateless to prom is the single worst thing that has ever happened to anyone in the history of existence across space and time.nicole doesn't feel like she's being dramatic when she says she wished she had $4 to buy a sandwich. also, love is dead and nothing matters.[complete].





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> did this as writing sprints to work on certain things. but also to fix the single greatest wrong ever done in the last five minutes of an otherwise great movie. we're gonna do this, but we're gonna get it right (and gay) this time.
> 
> i think it's only fair you know that i was really drunk during most of this. i hate high school au's?? why are we here.

_"shiver and say the words_

_of every lie you've heard."_

_\- bring on the dancing horses, echo & the bunnymen (1985)_

 

_-_

_part i_

-

 

It was almost bright enough outside to be considered a morning. But not really. And Waverly wasn’t really willing to budge on that. She was seventeen and knew things.

 

She slapped at her alarm clock blindly for a few wasted minutes before eventually giving it a solid swing that sent it crashing to the floor. When it proceeded to do the exact same thing, just on the ground, Waverly sat up and glared at the far wall of her room.

 

It wasn’t easy being a kid.

 

Waverly poured herself out of bed in a heap of unhappy teenage angst and went to pick through her closet before school. And it was around the fourth outfit she’d glared at in her mirror that she realized it was just going to be one of  _ those _ days. The ones where it didn’t matter what she put on, she was going to feel ugly. A heap of progressively heinous outfits was stacked waist-high on the floor at her feet. Life was garbage.

 

“Waverly!”

 

Waverly frowned at herself in the mirror. “What?” She called back.

 

“C’mon, kiddo. Breakfast! I made spaghetti!”

 

Waverly frowned harder. “I feel ugly today!” She complained in the general direction of her sister before putting on a sweater and deciding it wasn’t going to get any better.

 

“That’s okay,” Wynonna called back. “Everyone in high school is ugly.”

 

Waverly walked into the kitchen glumly. “That really doesn’t make me feel better.”

 

“I’m just saying nobody will notice. You’ll be in good company,” Wynonna offered, dumping the contents of a sauce pan in a plastic bowl and putting it on the table for Waverly to politely push around for a few minutes, then abandon. It was the usual routine.

 

Waverly proceeded with the morning ritual while Wynonna put gin in her orange juice. “Why can’t you just tell me I’m pretty like a normal person?”

 

“You  _ are _ pretty. But you’re in high school, so I’m really certain you wouldn’t listen to me either way,” Wynonna said  _ accurately _ . But there was no way Waverly was reasonable enough to give that to her. She pouted harder and wondered if she could get away with feeding the dog her breakfast spaghetti while Wynonna’s back was turned. Colt looked up at her balefully from under the table like,  _ I won’t tell if you won’t _ .

 

“Aren’t you going to be late?” Wynonna asked, ignoring her orange juice to drink straight from the bottle of gin.

 

Waverly shot her a look. “Aren’t you?”

 

“Hopefully.”   
  


“Fine. But I just want you to know that I’ll complain bitterly the whole time. And I’ll feel ugly.”

 

“That’s the spirit!” Wynonna ruffled her already misbehaved hair as she grabbed a light jacket and headed for the door. “Have an ugly day!”

 

Waverly pouted harder while Wynonna laughed and shut the door behind her. Colt was still staring at her like she held the key to prevent his imminent death, so she pushed away from the table and dropped her bowl at his feet. “All yours, buddy.”   
  


 

+++

  
  


As usual, Waverly’s car barely turned over when she tried to jog what was left of her ancient engine to life. Every morning she got to school on a was a wing and a prayer that her car wasn’t going to turn to dust underneath her feet. If she had any money or any faith that her engine wasn’t actually just a hamster on a little wheel under the hood of her car, Waverly would’ve taken it in to a mechanic. But alas.

 

By the time her car lurched into the school parking lot, she was only eight minutes from first bell and about four minutes from wanting to off herself.

 

“Hey gorgeous,” Bobo crooned, leaning in what Waverly was sure he thought was a real slick way against the side of her car. “Who you doin’ this weekend?”

 

“Don’t you mean  _ what _ am I doing this weekend?” She groused, wrestling her backpack from the back seat.

 

He smiled smugly. “No.”

 

“Charming. Not interested, Bobo. Buzz off,” she grumbled, slamming the door into a frame it was ill fitted for ever since Wynonna had run it into a fire hydrant. The Earp family fortune was made up of many heirlooms that Wynonna had since run into fire hydrants.

 

Bobo deflated like the load of hot air he was. “Bitch,” he muttered, loud enough for Waverly to hear but quiet enough not to catch flack for it.

 

Waverly ignored him and headed inside to make a rushed stop at her locker and  _ maybe _ make it to European history in time. But probably not.

 

“Ms. Waverly Earp. Do you know what irks me this morning?”

 

Definitely not going to make it to history on time.

 

Waverly sighed as loud as she possibly could. “Nicole,” she greeted halfheartedly. “I’m going to be late.”

 

“Then what do you have to lose?”

 

“My patience. The little tolerance I offer you.”

 

Nicole grinned, holding Waverly’s locker open for her while she angrily rifled through textbooks. She was wearing a delightfully strange patterned shirt tucked into clashing pants, which was fairly time for her. “Don’t pretend like you want to get to class. Stephanie just got a new haircut and I think it’s actually made her meaner. Is that possible? Was the last of her humanity stored in her split ends? Will she get nicer when it grows out? I’m willing to bet-”

 

“Is this what was  _ irking _ you?” Waverly interrupted, making a grab for her locker door.

 

Nicole held fast and she gave her a flat look. “No, what irks me is your sister.”

 

“Join the club.”

 

“Walk with me,” Nicole said pompously, shutting Waverly’s locker door and gesturing for her to grab the crook of her elbow. Waverly ignored her and walked on while Nicole scrambled to catch up. “All I want to know is how someone who works at a  _ record shop _ can be so woefully out of touch with music. What’s that thing where you’re kidnapped and you start to fall in love with your kidnapper?”

 

“Friendship?”

 

“You’re so...charming.”

 

“Stockholm syndrome.”

 

Nicole snapped her fingers. “That’s the one. I think your sister has it. You know, the seventies had some  _ truly _ awful music. I think we all need to admit that.” Some senior in a letterman jacket made a grab to slap Nicole’s books out of her hand, but she ducked under it neatly and kept walking like it happened every day. Which it did. “All I’m saying is Wynonna doesn’t have to be in love with ABBA anymore. She’s free. It can’t hurt her. She can listen to other music. She can expand her horizons. She can dance, she can jive, having the time of her life.”

 

“What in god’s name are you talking about?” Waverly sighed. Most mornings, the busy hallway sounds just created a big buzz in her brain. How Nicole managed to be a morning person at the age of nineteen was one of the bigger mysteries about her and that was absolutely saying something.

 

Nicole waved a hand in front of her face. “Forget it, your heart’s not in this. What you really care about is how  _ I’m _ doing.”

 

“I really don’t,” Waverly said with a wry smile.

 

Nicole grinned back. “I know that’s not true. You just have a big school sized stick up your butt. That’s okay, though. We’ll do dinner tonight. Sandwiches, on you. My treat.”

 

“Um, excuse you. You don’t know what I have up my butt.”   
  


They exchanged a weird look outside Waverly’s classroom before she backpedaled. “And I am  _ not _ buying you a sandwich tonight. I have like two dollars.”

 

“And I have none. Want to throw rocks at people? That always cheers you up.”

 

Waverly laughed despite herself. “No, that just cheers  _ you _ up.”

 

“And cheering me up cheers  _ you _ up. Because you’re so deeply in love with me,” Nicole said seriously. Like she always did.

 

Waverly laughed harder and rolled her eyes. Maybe Nicole would stop saying it when it stopped making Waverly laugh. “I am not.”

 

“What? Oh, that can’t possibly be true. I’ve met me.”

 

Gently, Waverly pushed Nicole away from the door so she could squeeze inside. “Goodbye, Nicole,” she sang. As she shut the door in Nicole’s face, she hollered something about a date, but Waverly was already heading for her seat. She would’ve made it too if Stephanie hadn’t stuck her foot out and caught the toe of her shoe, sending her into an ungainly stumble. Luckily, she caught herself at the last minute and didn’t faceplant. Somehow, it didn’t  _ feel _ any less embarrassing.

 

“Sorry,” Stephanie murmured, shooting a shit-eating grin to Molly. “I saw your shoes and thought they were big, ugly cockroaches.”

 

Waverly turned and offered her a sweet smile. “It’s okay, I had the same scare with your face just last week.”

 

“Ms. Earp!”

 

Waverly stiffened and turned to find Mrs. Haverford’s eye twitching at her. “Ms. Earp, I don’t tolerate this kind of tardiness - or  _ bullying _ \- in my classroom.”

 

The entire class was watching with mild interest, desperate for anything to distract them from the day’s lecture. “Of course you don’t,” Waverly agreed sardonically. “My sincerest apologies, Stephanie. Your face  _ barely _ resembles a cockroach. And I won’t be late again.”   
  


Mrs. Haverford’s eye twitched harder, but she allowed Waverly to return to her seat without further incident. Waverly spent the rest of class imagining Stephanie with progressively bigger ears until she was sold off to the circus. But the more she looked down at her thrift store shoes, the more she hated them. They  _ did _ kind of look like cockroaches.

 

When class let out, Chrissy Nedley leaned over and offered her an encouraging smile. “You alright, Waverly?”

 

“Depends on the day,” she sighed back.

  
  


+++

  
  


After school, Waverly coaxed her car in the direction of Ody’s Records on Grand and 123rd Avenue. The sign had long since fallen during a bad wind storm several years back, but Waverly didn’t suspect it mattered all that much. Sign or no sign, business was going to be slow. A big, shiny corporate record shop had opened up across the street from the high school and things had been rough for Ody ever since. Wynonna was making a tower from unpaid electric bill invoices when she pushed through the heavy wooden door. The tinkle of the bell made Wynonna look up excitedly, but her face fell when she saw it was just Waverly.

 

“Oh, it’s just you,” she muttered.

 

Waverly headed behind the counter and dropped her backpack on the floor. “Gee, thanks.”

 

“No offense, but you don’t have any money.”

 

Waverly slumped against the counter. “You don’t either.”

 

“You ungrateful, breakfast spaghetti-eating twerp.”

 

“That’s me,” Waverly muttered, picking at the edge of an old sticker on the countertop. “Why can’t you just make normal breakfast food?”

 

“God, if I knew you’d be this picky, I would’ve gotten a dog instead.”

 

“You  _ have _ a dog! And you just  _ ended up _ with me when mom pulled her disappearing act and dad went and died.”

 

Wynonna raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Waverly. “Huh. My life sucks.”

 

“It’s not that complicated! Just buy eggs!”

 

“Fine!” Wynonna threw her hands up in the air. “Eggs and rubies coming right up, Princess.”

 

“Go stock something,” Waverly snapped, shoving Wynonna out from behind the counter toward the back storeroom.

 

Wynonna went, but not without shouting back, “What’s to stock? We never sell anything anyways.”   
  


While Wynonna crashed around in the back room, Waverly stared bleakley out the front of the store, perusing all of the local fliers people came in asking to hang up. A lilac flier reading  _ Purgatory High Prom! _ drew Waverly’s eyes and soured her mood further. She’d never been to prom before. She’d been asked by a few guys - some joking some not - but there wasn’t a not-embarrassing way to say that she didn’t have two pennies to rub together. And Waverly didn’t think there were many guys at her school that would’ve been kosher with her showing up in a potato sack. Of course, Nicole had offered to go as her date and  _ also _ wear a potato sack. But Nicole probably would’ve enjoyed that too much. Waverly found it was better not to encourage her.

 

Wynonna came out from the store room with a box of Steely Dan records and Waverly winced. Maybe there was a reason Ody wasn’t doing too hot.

 

“Did you go to your prom?” Waverly asked absently, on a whim.

 

Wynonna dropped the records in the ‘S’ section of garbage music and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure. Everyone went. You don’t just  _ not _ go to prom.”

 

“I mean, that can’t be true. I’m sure not  _ everyone _ goes to prom.”

 

Steely Dan’s album,  _ Gaucho, _ was pointed threateningly at Waverly’s face. “Everyone went. I mean  _ everyone _ , Waves.”

 

“Really?” Waverly frowned and turned to lean her back against the counter. “Why? Prom is just a stupid tradition anyways.”

 

Discarding the album on a sale rack, Wynonna came over to give Waverly a serious look. “Waverly. Life is just a series of stupid traditions.”

 

“That’s...bleak.”

 

“Well, yes. But what I’m trying to say is sometimes you just have to take people’s word for it and do what you’re supposed to do. High school isn’t the time to take a weird, alternative stance. Wait until your twenties to rebel.”

 

“Oh,” Waverly said, drawing out the vowel. “Just do what I’m supposed to do? You mean, like getting a real, adult job?”

 

“Why oh why didn’t I just get a dog?” Wynonna lamented.

 

Waverly didn’t have the energy to correct her again, so she just rolled her eyes and went back to glaring at the prom flier. “You really think I should go to prom? We don’t have any money.”

 

“I really do,” Wynonna said firmly. “And besides, you’re thrifty. I’m sure you can find  _ something _ to wear. Wear a barrel held up with straps like in the cartoons. That’d be provocative.”

 

Waverly chewed on her lip and thought through how many pennies she might be able to find in the couch cushions. “But it’s not like I have anyone lining up to take me. I don’t know.”

 

“Take Nicole,” Wynonna said like it was obvious. “She would literally cry if you asked her. What girl wouldn’t want that?”

 

“What? No. I’m not taking a girl to prom, that’s sad.”   
  


Wynonna shrugged. “It’s not weird if she’s a lesbian.”

 

“Yeah? What part of that wouldn’t be weird?”

 

All Waverly got in return was a scoff, but it made her want to defend herself. “Nicole’s great, alright? She’s my best friend, but she’s a weirdo.”

 

“I know!” Wynonna laughed. “She showed up to my Memorial Day barbeque in suspenders and brought me a plate of ribs she stole from a different barbeque down the street. I love that little weirdo.”

 

“This isn’t helping,” Waverly grumbled, shutting down that train of conversation and moving to count all of the money that wasn’t in the register.

 

“Suit yourself, kiddo. You be gentle with that weirdo, though. I’ll never forgive you if you crush her gay little heart.”

 

“She’s taller than you. And I’m your sister! You’re supposed to take my side.”

 

“Yeah, that should tell you how much I like that little freak.” 

 

“I am so done talking about this.”

 

The gesture that Wynonna made in return was less than final, but Waverly pulled on a pair of crappy headphones and pressed play on whatever was in the little portable on the counter to drown her out. She was suffering loudly through Wynonna’s choicest music when a handsome man in some expensive-looking sweater walked into the store. The sweater was tight enough that Waverly found her eyes lingering on the swell of his bicep. Even his hair looked expensive, somehow.

 

When he caught her looking, she knew she was doing a bad job of not blushing. He offered her a charming smile and continued to shoot her furtive looks while he perused the early alphabet section of rock hits.

  
  


+++

  
  
  


“This band sucks,” Wynonna muttered, slogging her way through her fourth triple whiskey with a frankly terrifying efficiency. Waverly had been nursing the same vodka soda Wynonna had bought her an hour ago because the drinks at Shorty’s weighed more than she did. Wynonna’s boyfriend of the month was desperately trying to keep up with Wynonna in a sad kind of way. Little flecks of whiskey stuck in his mustache as he got less coordinated.

 

Waverly looked up at the empty stage. “Wynonna, the band hasn’t even gone on yet. This is just the radio.”

 

“Boo!” Wynonna called while Henry accidentally poured half his drink down the front of his stupid cowboy vest. “Play the right notes!”

 

Waverly left to get another drink, sheepishly indicating that she didn’t actually want any vodka in her cranberry juice. The bartender gave her a weird look, but waved her off with it, free of charge. Something highly illegal that Waverly wasn’t privy to had happened between Shorty and Wynonna several years ago and the Earps hadn’t paid a cent for a drink there since. Sometimes the less you know, the better.

 

When she returned to her seat, the band had actually started setting up and Wynonna was sucking on ice cubes. “Tell  _ her _ that,” Wynonna said, gesturing at Waverly.

 

“Tell me what?”

 

Henry hiccuped and leaned forward. “That prom is a right of passage. That no matter what happens, you’ll always regret it if you don’t go. You might have a terrible time, but at least you’ll  _ know _ .”

 

“Ugh,” Waverly supplied, leaning forward to sip at her cranberry juice.

 

Henry nodded sagely and poured most of the rest of his whiskey down the front of him when he tried to bring it to his lips again. Waverly watched absently while  _ The Fuck Brigade _ set up their shitty cymbals and stumbled over all the free drinks they’d clearly been plied with. Waverly felt about an inch away from becoming a premier member of  _ The Fuck Brigade _ . She wondered if they were taking applications.

 

“What do you think about going out with a rich guy?” Waverly asked because even a single vodka soda was always a bad idea.

 

Wynonna lowered her drink to the table slowly. “A  _ rich _ guy?” She asked with enough disgust to answer Waverly’s question.

 

“Never mind.”

 

“No, I mean -  _ what? _ Where did you find a rich guy?”

 

Waverly kept her eyes fixed pointedly on the stage. “Nowhere - nothing. I didn’t.”

 

“You answer my question young lady,” Wynonna said with all the authority of a domesticated goldfish. “Right now.”

 

“It’s nothing!” Waverly threw her hands up, then stood briskly when it seemed Wynonna was gearing up for a fight. “You know what? Never mind. I’m going home. It’s been a long week.” When Wynonna tried to protest, Waverly gave them a half-hearted wave and headed for the exit through the fog of cheap cigarette smoke and static radio.

  
  


+++

  
  


Nicole approached the bouncer outside Shorty’s with all the confidence of a high school two-time senior who hadn’t figured out what to do with their growth spurt and literally couldn’t afford shoelaces. “Hey, Bobby. Slow night? I’ll have a beer for you,” she said, making a move to slip past him into the dark warmth of the club.

 

The bouncer extended one thick arm in front of the door and offered Nicole a tired look. “Nice try, kid.”

 

“Well how do you like that?” Nicole said, ruffling herself indignantly. “My girlfriend is waiting for me inside.” Bobby raised one almighty eyebrow. “Okay, she’s not my girlfriend. But she is a girl and she is my friend and she is inside.”

 

Bobby shook his head and scooted his stool more firmly in front of the door.

 

“Oh c’mon! I’m older than her! This is ridiculous, you always let me in.”

 

“I  _ never _ let you in,” Bobby laughed. “Why don’t you go home and do homework or something?”

 

“You sound just like my teachers,” Nicole hissed.

 

Bobby offered her a smug look. “Well fine. Why don’t you go sell drugs on a street corner or throw rocks at police officers?”

 

“You sound just like my mother.”

 

Bobby’s mouth twisted up in the corner and something dreadfully close to pity pulled at his face. It made Nicole want to throw rocks at  _ him _ . “Why do you gotta get in there so bad anyways? I spend most of my life wanting to get  _ out _ of there.”

 

“I told you my girlfriend - er, friend...girl...is in there.” Nicole’s shoulders sagged and she let her back hit the brick wall of the bar, deflating next to him. “I don’t know, Bobby. Love is...complicated.” For good measure, she made some sweeping gesture to the sea of alleyway garbage and piss-stained walls like it was any kind of explanation at all.

 

For his part, Bobby nodded sympathetically. “It is.”

 

“Word, brother.”

 

“Nicole, what are you doing here?” Waverly asked warily, slipping past the bouncer and rummaging around in her purse for her keys. “Are you harassing Bobby again?”

 

“She’s not,” Bobby came to her rescue. “Hey, why won’t you go on a date with her, huh?” He utterly betrayed her in his next breath.

 

Waverly looked up from her purse. “Huh?”

 

“Why won’t you give Haught a chance?”

 

Nicole laughed loudly and awkwardly, then grabbed for Waverly’s elbow, chauffeuring her away from the bar while she shot a glare over her shoulder at Bobby’s stupid grin. “Ignore him,” Nicole advised. She pointed their path in the direction of Waverly’s car while Waverly sent a confused look behind her. “I hope the gentleman did not offend you.”

 

“Why are you here?” Waverly looked around a bit, but Nicole had already deposited her in front of her car and taken the keys from Waverly’s hand. She unlocked her door for her, jiggled the handle just right, and screeched the door from it’s frame to offer Waverly the driver’s seat with a gallant gesture. “Let me guess,” Waverly smiled, leaning against the upper frame of the driver’s seat. “You need a ride home.”

 

Nicole smiled back. “I don’t  _ need _ a ride home. I’m more than capable of walking three miles back through Purgatory’s most terrible neighborhoods by myself.”

 

“Oh, get in already,” Waverly exasperated fondly, pushing Nicole back so that she could climb into her seat and shut the door. When Nicole had wrangled the passenger door open and plopped into the creaking seats, Waverly coaxed her terrible car to life and spluttered off down the street. It wasn’t that long of a drive, but Nicole could read Waverly’s mood when she started winding down side streets and meandering through side neighborhoods. The crappiness of her mood was always directly proportional to how long it took her to drive Nicole home. Which was a real bummer. How was Nicole supposed to  _ ethically _ bargain for more time with the love of her life when it only ever came with Waverly’s profound unhappiness? Bein’ a kid was hard.

 

They crawled at a snail’s pace along 118th Street, heading north up into one of the more affluent neighborhoods of Purgatory. Nicole looked over to Waverly’s pinched expression, watched her hungry eyes trace the elegant banisters and towering terraces of the elite. Nicole sighed. “You know, I bet every single person in this neighborhood is a complete jackass.”

 

“Maybe,” Waverly hedged, staring lustfully at a four car garage that apparently  _ still _ couldn’t accommodate all of the vehicles at one particularly desperate display of obscene wealth. “I wonder what those houses even look like on the inside.” She smiled sadly and looked down at her steering wheel. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever know.”   
  


Nicole frowned determinedly. “Oh, you’ll know. Tell you what: I’ll buy you one of those monstrosities some day. Eight car garage. Weird, nonfunctional balcony over the front door. So many bedrooms you’ll never have to see your sister again. The works.”

 

“You don’t have any money either,” Waverly laughed, grinning at Nicole in the dark of the streetlights. “And why would you buy me a house anyhow?”

 

“I don’t have any money  _ now _ .” Nicole leaned toward Waverly’s window to get a better look at a house with literal column pillars for no goddamn reason. Her arm went around the back of Waverly’s seat just to be a little bit closer. “And besides - I’ll  _ have _ to get you a house when we get married. What do you take me for?”

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Waverly chuckled, passing through the end of the subdivision and making a more direct line toward the harder part of town. The houses got uglier and smaller as they got closer to home and it was hard to imagine a future in which either of them had anything close to resembling a two-car garage. Or four walls. But the fact that Waverly took her straight home after that left Nicole satisfied that she’d maybe cheered Waverly up a bit. Maybe.

  
  


+++

  
  


Waverly was about two seconds from letting her forehead collide with the chemistry book on the table when someone dropped their things loudly in the spot in front her of her. She looked up through the haze of an hour of forced library time and nearly swallowed her tongue. The handsome boy with the expensive haircut was smiling at her with his hands resting on top of his own textbook.

 

“Hi,” he said.

 

And Waverly, intelligently, replied, “Hi.”

 

“I saw you at that record store on 123rd,” he pointed out, twisting a sleek watch around on his wrist and still smiling at Waverly like she wasn’t wearing donated clothes and hand-me-down shoes. “I’m Champ Hardy. You’re Waverly Earp, right?”

 

“I am,” she said a little breathlessly. Honestly, it was like an attractive person had never spoken to her before. Of course, rich, attractive men weren’t usually starting  _ respectful _ conversations and murmuring at her across a library desk. “Have we met?”

 

“We have now,” he said with a wink. And maybe it was a little much, but she was a seventeen-year-old girl. So sue her.

 

Waverly blushed. “Right.” She watched surreptitiously from under her eyelashes as he fingered through the pages of an economics textbook, scratching at his temple with a pen. There was something undeniably sexy about a man not afraid to do homework in pen. Undeniably sexy and anxiety-inducing. Waverly’s weakness. “Is that your real name?” She wondered out loud.

 

Champ’s face faltered only a moment, then fell back into smug confidence. “Might as well be. Let me take you on a date. I’ll  _ show _ you why my name is Champ.”

 

That was foreboding and perhaps not as sexy as he probably thought it sounded. But there was no denying how expensive his hair looked. And for once in Waverly’s life, someone was looking at her like Wynonna looked at the clearance section of Tony’s liquor and grocery. That was to say, a little inappropriately, but overall with single-minded interest and devotion. There were worse things in the world than a little attention. Waverly deserved  _ that _ at least. Didn’t she?

 

“Maybe,” she hedged, pretending to be really interested in the exchange of electrons while Champ grinned at her.

 

“Can I call you sometime?” He asked.

 

Waverly scribbled the number to her bedroom telephone on a scrap of paper torn from the edge of her homework and slid it across the table. “I think I’d like that.”

  
  


+++

  
  


Nicole shifted in the squeaky lawnchair sat unevenly on the Earp front lawn, drinking the ice water Wynonna had shoved into her hands after watching Nicole wrestle with the world’s worst lawn trimmer. It was around hour two of frantically grinding the tiny rusted contraption into the crabgrass around their house that Nicole began to suspect it wasn’t actually a chore that Waverly performed and that she had, in fact, been duped into it. It was around hour three that Wynonna seemed to feel some shred of remorse and had brought her a folding chair and iced tap water. But the remorse faded and Wynonna was back to lounging in her own chair, flipping through an outdated magazine and paying no mind to her again.

 

The lawn looked absolutely terrible.

 

Nicole laid back and stared up into the clear sky so she wouldn’t have to look at what she’d done. “I think I would’ve had better luck with safety scissors,” she sighed, wiping at the rolling sweat on her temple with the sleeve of her shirt.

 

Wynonna grunted out a single laugh. “Yeah. You honestly tried way longer than I thought you would.”

 

“Waverly never mows the lawn does she?” Nicole soured.

 

Wynonna made some noncommittal sound. “No. I usually make the boyfriend of the month do it. Doc’s out of town, though.”

 

“One day, god will smite you for taking advantage of a young woman’s heart.”

 

“There is a vast ocean of more relevant reasons god’s going to smite me,” Wynonna chuckled. “One day, you’re going to have to take a fucking number.”

 

Nicole frowned, but took a fucking number.

 

“I’ve got to say, taking over a mildly unpleasant chore to get Waverly to fall in love with you really isn’t even your worst plan,” Wynonna shrugged, pulling off her sunglasses to wipe at the sweat on her face. It was the highest point of the afternoon but it hadn’t yet taken a turn for the better. Even the cicadas had long since thrown in the towel and the neighborhood was unusually quiet.

 

Nicole sagged back in her chair. “Yeah. I don’t know. I’ve tried everything, but I just can’t seem to get through to her. What am I doing wrong?”

 

Aborting a motion to put her sunglasses on, Wynonna turned to offer her an uncharacteristically sincere look. “Kid, listen: sometimes you love a person but they just don’t love you back. There’s nothing either I or you can do to save yourself from that. Them’s the breaks sometimes.”

 

All Nicole could manage in return was some noise of wounded acceptance. She looked away from Wynonna’s pitying gaze and turned to stare out across the street to where one of the Earp’s neighbors appeared to be bathing himself in a plastic dog pool.

 

“For what it’s worth,” Wynonna continued while Nicole tried to breathe through the lump in her throat, “I wish she did. Love you, I mean. Who doesn’t want the light of their life to pick someone without a weiner?” At Nicole’s look of disgust, Wynonna laughed and put her sunglasses on. “It’s every parent’s dream for their little girl to wake up one day and decide she’s a lesbian. Trust me.”

 

“I don’t know why I talk to you,” Nicole pouted.

 

Wynonna hummed like,  _ doubt it _ . While Nicole stewed, Wynonna joined in watching her neighbor scrub at his groin in broad daylight with an old bar of soap. He flopped around a bit in the pool then began showering his hair off with a garden hose and a loofa. “What in god’s name is Mr. Emerson doing?” Nicole asked warily.

 

“City shut off his water. He’s been pirating from the neighbor’s hose this past week. I think he’s got a date tonight.”

 

“I hate this goddamn neighborhood.”

  
  


+++

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unpopular opinion: pretty in pink was the best molly ringwald movie, get that breakfast club shit out of my face.


	2. part ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me conducting an autopsy of this postmortem: shocking, but not surprising.
> 
> (remember: i may sail this boat, but you willingly got on board with me. felony murder was invented for people who think they could just drive the getaway car without legal responsibility.)

_part ii_   
  
  


_-_

 

 

Waverly picked more insistently at the sticker she’d been working on removing from the countertop at Ody’s records and sighed. Ody would’ve had a fit if he’d known that she was covering for Wynonna while she picked up an extra shift at Shorty’s. They were dangerously close to the first of the month, though, and Waverly knew they couldn’t cover the minimum payment on their mortgage. Waverly had long since given up finding gentle ways to suggest selling their father’s house and moving into a crappy apartment together. For someone who claimed not to be sentimental, Wynonna sure got angry every time  _ that _ conversation came up.

 

The little bell above the door chimed and Waverly looked up in mild surprise. That surprise doubled when Champ grinned at her from across the counter.

 

“Oh! Um, hi Champ,” she managed, folding her hands awkwardly on top of the counter.

 

Champ shot her another wink, as he seemed wont to do. “Waverly,” he said, smoothly reaching out to rest a hand on Waverly’s own. “You look awful pretty today.”

 

“Thank you,” she murmured, feeling bashful but not really sure what to do with her hands. It was a romantic gesture, but her hands were trapped awkwardly under his and she wasn’t positive what she was meant to do like that. “Are you here for a particular record?”

 

“Just here for you,” he smirked.

 

“Oh. Uh, I-”

 

The burglar alarm in the back of the store jumped to life, blaring through the back of the store and sending Waverly tripping into a minor heart attack. Champ’s hands hovered above the counter, having been dislodged when Waverly jumped back. She offered him an apologetic look and hooked her thumb over her shoulder toward the back room. “I’ve gotta - check on that,” she said and turned without waiting for his response.

 

Only a very small part of Waverly was still capable of being disappointed when she saw Nicole stuck halfway in the storm window trying to crawl through it into the store room. “Why do we even have an alarm? All it does is announce your presence.”

 

“Well when else am I going to be  _ announced _ in my life?” Nicole wheezed, flailing as she slipped over the window frame and crashed to the floor inside the shop. “Ugh.”

 

“We have a  _ front door _ ,” Waverly griped, making no move to assist Nicole as she pushed to her feet.

 

Nicole grinned and dusted herself off. “Yes, but I’m not a  _ customer _ . I’m just a friend. A lover, perhaps.”

 

“No, you’re a trespasser. And you’re leaving now because I have customers in the shop,” she said firmly, pointing back from where Nicole had tumbled in from. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”

 

All the air left Nicole in a visible gust as she deflated and stared down at her shoes. Her hands went into her pockets and she shrugged. “Couldn’t I just stay?”

 

Whatever demands were on Waverly’s tongue fell flat and she slowed down a moment to watch the way Nicole flinched and toed at the ground. It was the silent way she had of saying,  _ no. I don’t have anywhere else to go _ . Which meant someone was at her house and -

 

Well. That was enough reason for Nicole not to go home. And it was raining out. And Nicole had come in the back window because she didn’t want to intrude. Waverly wondered if Nicole was even going to tell Waverly she was there - wondered if she was just going to sit in the back among the boxes until she thought maybe her house was empty again. She sighed.

 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Come on, you can help out in the shop.”

 

Nicole perked up again, falling back into her usual chipper mood as she held the door wide open and gestured grandly for Waverly to go first. Waverly rolled her eyes, but smiled as she took the lead back into the shop. The smile quickly slid off her face, though, when she saw Champ standing and joking around with Bobo. Waverly’s smile choked into a grimace and she turned on her heel, pushing past Nicole to hide in the backroom until they left.

  
  


+++

  
  


Even two days later, Waverly still came back home with a single-minded focus and headed straight upstairs into her room, dumping her backpack on the floor and reaching for her phone. The handset was cracked and the dial didn’t quite match up with the little black numbers, but it still worked. At least, she used to think that. But as she clicked through her voice messages, she was beginning to hope it  _ had _ broken.

 

_ Beep _

 

_ “Waverly, darling, it’s Nicole. Just had a thought: bring ascots back - but this time, we do it right. I can’t elaborate on the phone - no idea who might be listening to this message. But call me back.” _

 

_ Beep _

 

_ “It’s Nicole again. Obviously. Just shoplifted an ascot from Village Thrift. Got caught of course. Not by an employee, by myself. Yeah, I felt too bad and put it back. I’m going to cut up that shirt you left at my house instead because honestly? You haven’t asked for it back in a few months and I can only assume you’re not going to miss it.” _

 

_ Beep _

 

_ “Waverly, it’s Nicole. Nobody looks good in an ascot. Abort mission. Considering suspenders instead? More to follow.” _

 

_ Beep _

 

_ “It’s Nicole. I’m going to ride my bike over to the quarry and throw old cans into it. You know: classy activities for classy ladies. Want to come along?” _

 

_ Beep _

 

_ “Thoughts on classical music? Heard something called a “concerto” yesterday and I think I had a human emotion about it. Call back ASAP.” _

 

_ End of new messages. _

 

Waverly deflated back into her mattress with a long sigh, dropping her phone carelessly off the side of the bed. While she did have a lot of questions about which of her shirts had met their demise and why Nicole had ever thought she could pull off an ascot, she had been waiting  _ forever _ for Champ to call her. But more importantly, she really  _ did _ want to go throw things in the quarry. But more importantly than that: why hadn’t he  _ called? _

 

It had been her own fault, really. She’d gone and thought for a second that someone like  _ that _ could’ve been interested in someone like her. Handsome, rich boys with nice smiles weren’t interested in welfare, thrift-dressed nobodies like her. Waverly stared listlessly at her ceiling for a few moments, before reaching out and blindly dialing one of the only numbers she knew by heart.

 

_ “You’ve reached Nicole Haught, aspiring palm reader, fashion icon, and next in line to the throne of-” _

 

“Nicole.”

 

_ “Oh, hey Waves.” _

 

“Still want to go throw things into the quarry?”

 

_ “Always.” _

  
  


+++

  
  


“Oh, shit! You almost got it in!” Nicole laughed, cheeks flushed in the hot afternoon sun.

 

Waverly nodded along, impressed even with herself that she’d launched a can of beans so far it  _ almost _ landed right in the old shopping cart that Wynonna had launched over the side during a legendary drunk night of her senior year. It’d  _ just _ bounced off one of the sides and tumbled out. They’d never gotten that close before. She shot Nicole a grin, stopped in her tracks momentarily by how the low angle of the sun lit up Nicole’s hair like an incandescent bulb. She was, true to her word, making a gallant attempt to make suspenders work again.

 

“You know? I think maybe you’re on to something with the suspenders,” Waverly shrugged. She weighed an empty bottle of Jack in her hand for a moment before looking back up at Nicole’s pleased expression. “It’s not your worst look.”

 

“That’s not saying much,” Nicole snickered, picking through a few plastic bottles for something a little more weighty. “It’s on a trial basis right now.”

 

“I’m serious,” Waverly laughed. Time away from the neighborhood, spent in quiet solidarity with Nicole, always made her feel like some of the weight had been lifted from the monotony of her sad life. “You look cute.”

 

When Nicole said nothing in return, Waverly looked up to find her clutching at her heart and beaming at Waverly like she  _ had _ thrown an old can of beans directly in some shitty shopping cart. Waverly rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

 

“That’s asking an awful lot of me.”

 

“It is, isn’t it?” Waverly pulled her arm back and released a terribly un-ladylike roar as she hurled the empty jack bottle out into a freefall above the quarry. It smashed against the side of a rusted out, abandoned bulldozer and busted out one of the side windows.

 

“Oh my  _ god! _ ” They both shouted in unison.

  
  


+++

  
  


Waverly woke up to a deep well of teenage angst and ennui as well as the tantalizing smell of something that almost could have been toast and eggs. The first thing was an every day kind of thing. The second thing could not possibly have been true because Wynonna hadn’t made something that wasn’t fresh off the pages of a children’s dinner menu for breakfast in the last fifteen years.  Waverly sat up in bed and squinted suspiciously at the wall across from her.

 

Something was deeply wrong in the Earp household.

 

Before even getting dressed, Waverly tiptoed down the creaky stairs and peered into the kitchen. The sight of Wynonna wearing an apron and whistling while she flipped some over-easy eggs didn’t relieve her in the slightest.

 

“What are you doing?” Waverly asked, trying to reign in the accusatory tone. But not trying all that hard.

 

Wynonna shot her a grin. “Eggs and toast. You know, breakfast stuff. For my favorite Waverly.”

 

“We both know I’m your second favorite Waverly. What’s wrong with you?” She took a cautious look around the kitchen on the off-chance Wynonna was being held hostage. Or had fallen victim to some kind of airborne poison.

 

Wynonna shrugged, still in high spirits, and flipped another egg over. “Nothing’s wrong with me. Nicole was schmoozing some business man she met playing poker in a backroom at Moe’s Cigar Lounge when-”

 

“She what?”

 

“-when she learned he was looking for a headhunter for his business. A sort of jack-of-all-trades with a no-nonsense personality who can get their hands dirty and pull their weight. Someone he could pay cash under the table.” Wynonna tipped the pan over a plate with a flourish, and held it out for Waverly. “Someone like me.”

 

Waverly took the plate, still suspicious. “No nonsense? You are at least eighty percent nonsense.”

 

“Well that leaves twenty percent that can do the job,” Wynonna dismissed, reaching for the toaster. “I’m selling out, Waves. I’m going to be a fully employed,  _ salaried _ , asshole. With benefits.” The toast popped. “Not benefits for my asshole. Benefits for my entire body.”

 

“Good to know,” Waverly said slowly, sitting herself down while she was served an appropriate breakfast from her salaried legal guardian. “I’m...wow. I’m actually really proud of you,” she admitted. She was surprised to find it was true. “That’s awesome.”

 

“I told you Nicole was good. My faith in that weirdo paid off. You sure you won’t kiss her? Not even without tongue?”

 

Waverly pushed an entire egg into her mouth to avoid the question. Of course, there was some labido-fueled part of her underdeveloped teenage brain that was playing a vivid picture of what it might look like kissing Nicole across the front of her brain. Which was...great. “So,” she soldiered on, “are you going to stop working at Ody’s records or Shorty’s? Or both?”

 

“I’m just never going to sleep again.”

 

Waverly was much too busy lustfully eyeing the orange marmalade-slathered toast placed in front of her to dignify that with a response. Before she dug in, though, she paused and took a long look at Wynonna standing over her with an expression of deep affection. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles from the last three overnight shifts she’d taken at the bar immediately after working full days at Ody’s. She took a minute to smile up at her and reached out to squeeze her hand.

 

“I’m proud of you, Wynonna.”

  
  


+++

  
  


The pleasant surprises kept on rolling when Waverly opened her lunch that afternoon. It wasn’t the peanut butter and jelly inside, nor was it the bag of chips, the sliced apples, or the little water bottle filled with lemonade. It was the fact that she was opening a lunch at all. It was the little domestic brown paper sack with her name written on it. She made a note to herself to check Wynonna’s temperature when she got home. And check the tank behind the toilet in the downstairs bathroom to make sure she wasn’t selling cocaine again.

 

Waverly took a slow, thoughtful bite of her sandwich. She probably should have checked that regardless.

 

“Hey, Waverly,” Champ simpered, sliding onto the step next to her. Normally, Waverly ate lunch on the steps leading out the back of the school to avoid people finding her, but she wasn’t necessarily put off by his appearance. Not quite. “You look nice today.”

 

“You said that the last time we spoke,” she pointed out, just north of short with him. Waverly wasn’t a particularly petty person, but he  _ had _ promised to call her.

 

Champ didn’t seem all that capable of reading a room. “I meant it last time,” he shrugged. “You’re just so beautiful.”

 

Waverly took another overly large bite of her sandwich. “Thanks,” she said around it, because what the hell else was she supposed to say to that. She undoubtedly looked the part too with half a jar of peanut butter in her mouth. “You didn’t call.”

 

“I’m sorry.” For good measure, he leaned up under her line of sight to give her a charming, but appropriately apologetic smile. “I accidentally put your number through the wash with my pants.”

 

He probably had, hadn’t he? Nice boys with straight, white teeth and expensive hair didn’t just  _ lie _ about that sort of thing, did they? Maybe they did. Waverly didn’t know any other nice boys with straight, white teeth and expensive hair. Sample size was inconclusive.

 

“So listen, if you can forgive me,” he said...batting his eyelashes? Waverly wasn’t going to lie and say it was doing nothing for her. “I’d like to take you out on Friday night. Just you and me. On a date.”

 

There was some horrifying, less refined part of her that really just wanted to throw things into the quarry again with Nicole on Friday night. But Champ was handsome and he was looking at  _ her _ and asking  _ Waverly _ to go on a date with him. Like a real, romantic, adult date. With a real boy. Man. That’s more what she was  _ supposed _ to want.

 

“A date?” Waverly echoed, staring down into her lap at her sliced apples. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, a date.” Champ reached out slowly and took one of her hands. “Can I pick you up at six?”

 

“I - yes.” Waverly cleared her throat and nodded, more firm. “Yes. That would be lovely.”   
  


“Great!” Champ squeezed her hand once before letting it go and leaning back triumphantly. “Where do you live? I’ll pick you up at your house.”

 

All of Waverly’s levity came crashing down as she thought about the potential cocaine in the toilet tank, the horribly mangled crabgrass in her hideous front lawn, and Mr. Emerson washing his groin with dog soap in a kid’s pool in his front yard. “Er,” she said, watching her life flash before her extremely impoverished eyes. “No.”

 

“What?”

 

“Um! Uh, how about you pick me up from Ody’s? I’ve got something to do there beforehand.”

 

“Then it’s a date.”   
  


Waverly nodded. “I guess it is.”

  
  


+++

  
  


The rest of the day was a blur to Waverly, lost in her own thoughts as she was. She was excited, certainly. Champ was the kind of boy they’d dreamed about when she was a little girl in the pillow forts Nicole built for her in their living room. Well. The kind of boy Waverly had dreamed about. Champ was the kind of boy Nicole dreamed about burglarizing for their comic books and nice shoes. Looking back, Waverly really wasn’t sure how she’d ever been taken by surprise when Nicole had frankly, graphically, told her that she’d rather drink her own piss than date a boy.

 

Anyways.

 

More than anything, Waverly was nervous. Nothing she owned was good enough for wherever someone like  _ Champ _ was likely going to take her. And she was quite busy wondering whether it was better to show up with split ends or ask Wynonna to trim her hair with potentially disastrous results. She was so busy she almost forgot she wasn’t alone.

 

“Do you think I was too hasty with ascots?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Nicole tapped her pencil against her chin, staring at her own reflection in Waverly’s vanity mirror across her room. “Ascots. Was I too hasty? Can Nicole Haught pull off an ascot.”

 

Waverly blew out a fond sigh and shook her head. “I thought we were onto suspenders now?”

 

“I am. But I can’t help but mourn what never was,” she mused.

 

Letting her Champ issues rest for the moment, Waverly turned to where Nicole appeared to be writing that water was organically made up of ‘liquid’ and ‘blue stuff’.

 

“Nicole,” Waverly interrupted, “woah, there.” She reached out to physically prevent Nicole from writing anything else on her chemistry homework. “Dear god, stop.”

 

“Waverly, darling, if you try to tell me water is not made up of liquid and blue stuff, I swear I’m never going to put wet paper towels in Stephanie’s gym shoes in the locker room again,” Nicole warned.

 

“You - what?” Waverly made the difficult choice to bypass the lesser of two evils and refocused on their homework. “Nicole, come on. You know they’re asking for molecular structure, not your  _ personal opinion _ .”

 

“It’s not an opinion!” Nicole threw her hands up, but surrendered her homework when Waverly made a grab for it. “Rarely in life is there only  _ one _ truth. Is water made up of hydrogen and oxygen? Of course. Is it also made up of liquid and blue stuff?”

 

“No.”

 

“It absolutely is.”

 

Waverly erased Nicole’s answer as well as she could manage to avoid any teacher ever discovering what she’d meant to put down. Nicole really couldn’t afford that kind of bad press with a teacher. Not anymore. “Honestly, water isn’t even blue.”

 

“You’re not as fun as I always think you’re going to be,” Nicole teased. She flopped back onto Waverly’s bed and crossed her arms behind her head. “Why is the ocean blue, then?”

 

Waverly smiled and rolled her eyes. “You know why. It’s all about light absorption and reflection.”

 

“Oh, but it sounds so much better when you say it.”

 

“Nicole, why do you do this to yourself? You’re headed for another repeat of senior year if you don’t quit it. You don’t even like school.”

 

“But I do like you,” Nicole pointed out. “And besides, what else am I going to do? Not a lot of opportunities out there for someone like me,” she hummed. “My mom would be just as happy to learn I’d joined the circus. Or died.”

 

Waverly frowned. “Nicole.”

 

“Wait, do you think the circus is hiring?” Nicole turned to share a thoughtful look. “Is that something you apply for? Or do you just kind of wake up there one day when you’ve gone far enough off the reservation? I’ve got to be close.”

 

“Nicole,” Waverly interrupted, more stern. “Why do you do this to yourself?” At Nicole’s questioning look, Waverly turned on her stomach so she could look her in the eye. “Why do you run yourself down like that?”

 

“Run myself-” Nicole spluttered, “Waves, it’s called  _ humor _ .”

 

“What you’ve gone through isn’t funny.”

 

Nicole looked away, weighing Waverly’s anger visibly. “I mean, it’s a little funny.”

 

“You’re hopeless.”

 

Some new song fizzed to life on her crappy little radio across the room while Waverly deflated into her folded arms. Nicole was just smiling at her, winningly, as always. It was just the one time that Waverly had been allowed to see Nicole’s apartment and it’d been quite on accident. She’d shown up to surprise her for her birthday, only to be met with her irate, highly medicated mother, four strange men in the living room, and about the saddest collection of torn up furniture and peeled walls Waverly had ever seen. Nicole had forbidden her from going there again. Waverly hadn’t blamed her.

 

But every day, there Nicole was with some fresh, ridiculous outfit, and some inventive way to distract Waverly from her own troubles. Waverly smiled.

 

“I hope someday people realize how special you are,” she confessed, quite out of nowhere. “How wonderful and one of a kind.”

 

Quite out of character, Nicole blushed fiercely and turned to stare up at the ceiling. It was a rare day indeed to see her without a comeback. It made Waverly smile harder. “Why would I need a thing like that?” She eventually muttered.

 

Waverly was delighted to find that Nicole’s ears were nearly the same shade as her hair. She giggled and reached out to tug at a strand of it if only to embarrass her further. Sometimes it was difficult to be the person that Nicole looked at her as - be as magical as Nicole insisted she was. But other times it was nice.

 

“I’m going to get something to drink. Would you like something?” Waverly asked, standing and heading toward her door. Nicole muttered something about vodka, but Waverly ignored her and headed toward the kitchen.

  
  


+++

  
  


Nicole laid there on Waverly’s bed, quietly dying. Which - her mother had always said, if you’re going to die, don’t make a big deal of it. It was the least she could do for someone she was permanently and irrevocably in love with. That was love, right? Responsible and thoughtful corpse disposal.

 

Oh boy.

 

Nicole let out a loud groan and rolled over so her face was buried in the quilt. That proved to be a mistake - the quilt smelled like Waverly. And Nicole was gross and in love.

 

She turned back over and groaned louder.

 

“I do this to myself,” she said aloud. “She’s been nothing but fair and direct.”

 

The bed dipped harshly for a moment as the Earp’s massive dog leapt up onto the bed to curl up at Nicole’s side and rest his heavy head right on her stomach. One of Nicole’s hands automatically came up to rest between Colt’s ears.

 

“What was it Wynonna said to me? Sometimes you’re gay but god hates you?” She hummed doubtfully. “That wasn’t it. Sometimes you love someone and it kills you?”

 

Colt woofed.

 

“That must have been it.”

 

When Nicole fell into despondent stillness and ceased rubbing Colt’s ears, he bopped her hand with his slimy nose and prompted her into motion again. “I’ve really just got to be honest with her. In a serious, adult way. Right? Just - lay it all out there. Waverly, I’m in love with you and I know you’re probably not interested, but I feel like if I wait another day to tell you, I’ll explode.”

 

Colt gave her a baleful look that Nicole returned. “And then she’ll…” Nicole pursed her lips. “Laugh at me. Break my heart. Never speak to me again, perhaps.” Colt blinked his agreement. “And then I run off and join the circus.”

 

Colt woofed again.

 

“It’s not the worst plan I’ve ever come up with. There’s no sky writing involved in this one.”

 

The radio fizzled out in a burst of static, tripping desperately for several moments to pick up the station they always defaulted to. It was an ancient, beat up thing that Nicole had rescued from a dumpster several years ago. She’d rented three books on radio repair from the library and spent months trying to get the thing to work again. And it did - finally. But not well. Whatever Waverly’s true feelings on it, she insisted she loved it and had yet to part with it. For whatever stupid reason, it made Nicole’s heart seize every time she thought about it.

 

Faithfully, the radio picked up their station a few moments later, fighting through the static until some George Michaels song Nicole hated came to life in another fresh horror that chronologically and systematically made up Nicole’s life. She wasn’t dramatic. Drama just happened  _ to  _ her. Love was garbage and so was George Michaels.

 

“Hey, I brought you water. Clear, not-blue water,” Waverly said, shutting her door with a small bump of her hip. “Hydrogen and oxygen.”

 

“Fantastic.”

  
  


+++

  
  


Waverly pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, making a noble attempt to ignore how badly the tile floor of the gym was hurting her bottom. But it was either sit there with Chrissy and pretend she’d hurt her ankle, or be forced to play basketball with the rest of class. A sore bottom was the least of her concerns.

 

It was, perhaps, a little suspicious that Waverly and Chrissy were both claiming separate, unrelated ankle injuries in the same class, but Mrs. Foster was much too old and close to retirement to question it. Nicole, on the other hand, was having a good time throwing half-court shots over the irritated heads of the other girls in the class. Occasionally, she’d shoot Waverly a smile and roll the ball in her direction in a poor bid for Waverly to join the game. She’d roll her eyes along with the ball back in Nicole’s direction while Nicole laughed.

 

“Why didn’t she join the basketball team?” Chrissy wondered aloud.

 

Waverly shrugged. “She said sports teams are for fascists.”

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

Waverly made some vague gesture with her hand. “I’ve long since stopped trying to understand all of the things she does. But weirdly, I believe her.”

 

Chrissy offered only a nod, though it was genuine enough. They both watched as Nicole took a rather impressive lay-up, then walked off court like nothing had happened to hit the water cooler. “I won’t lie,” Chrissy said slowly, “but that’s kind of doing it for me right now.”

 

Waverly’s head whipped around to gape at Chrissy, a little offended for reasons she couldn’t quite figure out. “You - what?”

 

Chrissy just shrugged at the look. “I’m only human.”

 

When Waverly turned to watch Nicole get a paper cup of water from the cooler, Nicole caught her eyes and waved happily after mopping her forehead with the upturned bottom hem of her shirt. Waverly was not a creep and she did not watch it happen, thanks. If that was something that she was about to be asked.

 

“You doing anything this friday?” Chrissy asked with a mildly interested look. They didn’t hang out often, but Chrissy was a pleasant, low-key presence in her life.

 

Waverly thought about her plans with Champ, but couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. It still felt rather ridiculous. “I don’t know yet,” she said instead. “Maybe just stay in and study,” because apparently she was a liar.

 

“Hm,” Chrissy returned, also watching Nicole wipe at her forehead. Waverly felt the irrational urge to demand Chrissy stop that.

 

Before she could do something certifiably insane like voice her concerns, a shadow loomed over the both of them and drew their attention. “You know,” Stephanie leered, already revving up to say something truly revolting, “I always thought it was your  _ clothes _ that made you so sad. But now that we’re all wearing the same bland gym uniform, I can’t give you that benefit anymore. Now I’m really sure it’s just  _ you _ .”

 

Waverly felt it like a gunshot through her gut, but she hadn’t spent that long dirt poor in a wealthy private school to let anything show. Instead, she aimed a slow, wry smile up at Stephanie’s triumphant, stupid face. “And just when I thought you couldn’t get more charming.”

 

Stephanie opened her mouth, undoubtedly to destroy any semblance of self-worth Waverly had scraped from the ground over the last four years, but was silenced by the loud  _ thwack _ of a basketball bouncing hard off the side of her head. The gym had fallen silent and all eyes went from Stephanie’s shell shocked face and ruined hairdo to Nicole’s perfect follow-through posture, hands loose from a well-aimed shot.

 

Nicole let her hands fall to her sides. “Swish.”

 

Mrs. Foster cracked the silence with a loud shrill of her whistle. “Haught!” She roared. “Are you rough-housing in my gym?!”

 

Nicole turned and appraised her gym teacher for along moment, before nodding. “Yes.”

 

“Why?!”

 

The gym class tuned in to watch Nicole tilt her head thoughtfully to one side. “Because Stephanie Jones is a waste of human life and her pain brings me joy.”

 

“HAUGHT!”

 

The class erupted into badly smothered laughter while Nicole was sent off to the principal’s office and a tearful Stephanie was sent off to the nurse’s office. When Mrs. Foster came over to stare Waverly and Chrissy down, it was with a look that screamed that the both of them were on thin ice.

 

“Is this funny to you, Ms. Nedley?” Mrs. Foster hissed.

 

Chrissy pursed her lips, thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Foster.”

 

Mrs. Foster sent a wild, unhinged look to Waverly, daring her to agree. “Ms. Earp?”

 

“More than anything I’ve ever seen,” she said honestly.

 

Five minutes later found the three of them sitting in cold, plastic seats in a line awaiting Principal Evans judgment.

  
  


+++

  
  


If Nicole hadn’t sent Waverly a reassuring grin as she left Principal Evans’ office, waving a handful of detention slips, Waverly would’ve been sitting in front of Principal Evans, a much more devastated teenager. But instead, she couldn’t even summon a vague sense of contriteness. Rather, she was just kind of irritated.

 

“Ms. Earp,” he sighed, running a hand through what was left of his hair. “I’m not used to seeing you here.”

 

Waverly resisted the urge to do something stupid like prop her shoes up on his desk or light a cigar. It was a bad day to ask her to feel sorry for her actions. “Sir,” she said instead.

 

“I’m...not entirely sure what happened,” he admitted, “but I’ve been told you were being disrespectful. Or something.”

 

Waverly almost felt bad for him. But she was a teenager and, thus, much more entrenched in feeling sorry for herself. “Or something,” she agreed quietly.

 

“You’re not in trouble,” he sighed, rifling through some papers that probably had nothing to do with her. “Not this time. But I feel the need to remind you that you’re here on scholarship. You can’t really afford to jeopardize that, Ms. Earp.”

 

Something about his tone irked her and Waverly found herself leaning back with a less than contrite expression. “I’m sorry?” She asked icily.

 

“I’d hate to see you lose your spot here,” he went on. “Not when you’re so close to graduating. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

 

“Sir, with all due respect,” Waverly said, probably less respectful than she should have been, “I don’t  _ appreciate _ having my right to a basic education held hostage because I refused to feel sorry for a girl who has implied on several occasions that the world would be a shinier, happier place if I dropped dead. And while I’m here, in a generous and honest mood, let me further say that I don’t  _ appreciate _ being treated like it’s my most critical function to grovel for the chance to be in the general vicinity of people  _ worth more _ than I am. I don’t  _ appreciate _ the expectation that I’d be willing to endure  _ anything _ to breathe the same air as people who can afford to go to college. And I  _ especially _ don’t appreciate the expectation that I’m supposed to sit here and be terribly,  _ terribly _ sorry that Stephanie Jones has to go get another perm because she was a raging, world-class heavy-weight champion  _ asshole _ . So no, Mr. Evans.” Waverly sat back in her chair with a smug smile. “ I do not have anything to say for myself. I don’t have anything to say for myself because for the first time in almost four years at this moral, social wasteland, I’m really not ashamed to admit that I couldn’t give a single  _ fuck _ that you don’t approve of what I did. Mr. Evans, I absolutely do not care.”

 

Waverly examined her cuticles and shrugged. “Frankly, Stephanie Jones and Brad CollegeScholarship and Alicia Trustfund - and, honestly sir, you as well - can go suck a massive, throbbing-”

 

“ _ Ms. Earp _ .”

 

Waverly raised her hands in submission before settling back into her seat. “Mr. Evans, may I be excused now, sir?”

  
  


+++

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sweet, perfect high school waverly? i don't know her.
> 
> when this is all over, remember i've written good things for you too.


	3. part iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i broke all my party organs on new years and now im not any fun anymore

 

_ part iii _

 

+++

  
  


“Damn,” Nicole whistled, reading over Waverly’s detention slip. “How did you end up with  _ indefinite  _ detention. That’s...wow. Usually I’m the only one who can manage that.”

 

Waverly snorted, but kept her attention on her lunch.

 

“What did you say to Principal Evans?”

 

Waverly gestured with her sandwich crust. “Honestly? I kind of blacked out, but I think I said ‘fuck’.”

 

“God, I love you,” Nicole breathed.

 

Waverly ignored her. “What about you?”

 

“Detention buddies,” Nicole sang. “I’ve gotten really good at discrete paper airplane notes. We’re gonna have a good time,” she promised. And as always, Waverly believed her. “So what’s your Friday night looking like? Want to go fishing?”

 

“Fishing?” Waverly frowned. “Have you ever been fishing?”

 

“God no. But I feel like my theory is really sound. If I can’t outsmart a fish, I really have no business calling myself an outdoorsman.”

 

“I have never heard you call yourself an outdoorsman.”

 

“And I never will,” Nicole said seriously. “So, you in? You, me, some crappy homemade poles, and whatever the hell fish eat?”

 

Waverly was a big enough person to admit she was curious. But there was nothing for it, really. “Sorry, Nicole. I’ve got plans already.”

 

“ _ Plans?” _ Nicole placed a scandalized hand over her heart. At Waverly’s timid nod, though, she softened and grinned. “Alright then. Have fun. Meanwhile, I will figure out what fish eat. Next time, we’re gonna catch some fish. Or more likely, die trying.”

  
  


+++

  
  


Nicole had no idea why in god’s blue and green earth she’d suggested fishing, but sometimes you’re really gay and you panic. Besides, how hard could fishing be? How smart could  _ fish _ possibly be?

 

No, seriously. Nicole had no idea how smart fish were. But she knew how smart  _ she _ was and already did not love the odds.

 

It took all of her best impressions and all of her worst jokes to bring Waverly back from the brink of a truly ugly mood after gym class. Detention had long since ceased being a punishment for Nicole. It wasn’t like she was dying to get back to her mom’s place or anything, so Principal Evans hadn’t put much of a dent in the high she was riding from braining Stephanie Jones with a basketball. Besides that, she had a real honest to god lunch that Wynonna had sent along with Waverly. It was like Christmas. Except better, because last Christmas she’d had to bail her mother out of jail with her mattress money and the only present she’d gotten in return was her mother violently throwing up in her shoes upon their return.

 

But Waverly was in a mood, so Nicole adjusted accordingly.

 

“You sure you’re alright?” She asked, holding out one of the cookies Wynonna had put in Nicole’s lunch for Waverly to have. “You know Stephanie’s wrong about everything, right? You’re a hundred times more beautiful than any of them even in your hand-me-downs. She’s just intimidated.”

 

Waverly sent her a genuine smile and accepted the cookie. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’s not.”

 

“She’s got everything, Waves. Why else would she pick on you?” Nicole grinned. “She  _ should _ be intimidated. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

 

Waverly blushed, which - mission success. “Flatterer,” she muttered, but looked just a little bit pleased. “You already got your free lunch from me. You don’t have to try so hard.”

 

“It comes naturally,” Nicole assured her. “And I could get any girl to bring me free lunch. I only starve for the look. But you, my dear, are worth flattering.” 

 

“I have to admit,” Waverly smirked, “I’ve never had so much fun in gym before. That was an excellent shot.”

 

Nicole scoffed and leaned back on her elbows, squinting out across the hazy blacktop. “A complete accident, I assure you.”

 

Apparently there was no god, because suddenly Waverly had planted a light kiss on Nicole’s cheek on her way to stand and head to class. It had happened and there was no way back from it. Nicole was never going to survive her.

 

“Alright, well thank you anyways,” Waverly said sweetly. “But you need to stop getting yourself in trouble over me.”

 

“P-please,” Nicole attempted to brush off what had undoubtedly been the best microsecond of her life. “Try and stop me.”

 

“Okay, Nicole. Don’t stay out too long. Make sure you actually go to class,” she attempted to convince, in vain. With a little wave and a parting smile, she was gone - dragging Nicole’s pathetic heart along the dirty blacktop on a rope behind her as she did.

 

Nicole sighed dramatically and looked back out over the grounds. Next season’s fashion was...unrequited love. And maybe bowling shoes. But mostly unrequited love.

 

Even from a distance, she could see the sharks swarming - could see Bobo and a few of his choicest colleagues pick up on her scent and begin circling closer. Grant and Champ and some guy who looked like he was probably named ‘Brad’ or ‘Stephen’. Bobo was the only one who’d repeated as many grades as Nicole. And it had brought them together, truly. Nicole just wished that it had brought them together for a cup of coffee once in a while instead of her own head stuck in a toilet or her locker lit on fire. But they were together and that’s what mattered.

 

“Robert,” Nicole greeted.

 

“Queer.”

 

Nicole gave him a thin smile, delicately pulling the crust from her sandwich and eating that part first. “And yet here you are, flirting with me. Really makes me wonder why I even bothered coming out.”

 

“In your dreams,” he sneered.

 

“I guarantee you’re not,” she managed before his friend Grant was yanking her up by the back of her jacket like a makeshift noose. It was almost rewarding that Bobo hadn’t done it himself - Grant was one of the few boys in their grade tall enough for the whole intimidation shtick. Nicole was a lover, not a fighter though. She held her hands up placatingly and tried to smile more than grimace. “Gentlemen,” she laughed, “please. I have good news.”

 

Grant lifted her higher on her toes to squint suspiciously at her. “What good news?”

 

“Your mother’s found love again, Robert. And you don’t even have to call me ‘Dad’.”

 

Nicole supposed it was only fair when she spent the next hour trying to fish her shoes out of the boy’s room toilet and dry them under the hand dryers.

  
  


+++

  
  


“Do you think these pants make me look taller?” Wynonna asked, staring at the reflection of her own ass in the mirror near the neglected jazz section. When Waverly didn’t have any immediate input, Wynonna turned and snapped her fingers. “Hello. Earth to sister. What’s got your goat today?”

 

Waverly could appreciate what a terrible job of not pouting she was doing, but couldn’t really fix her face any better. She sighed mournfully while Madonna quietly reminded her in the background that men weren’t shit. Not  _ all _ of Wynonna’s music taste was terrible. Just...most of it. “Nothing,” she said glumly.

 

“God, you’re like every boyfriend I’ve ever had,” she muttered, abandoning her ass survey and coming to lean against the counter. “I’ll bite.” Wynonna cleared her throat and adopted a sickly sweet tone. “What’s wrong, babe? It’s never ‘nothing’. Was it me?”

 

“Stop,” Waverly grumbled. “I just thought I was going out tonight with some guy, but he’s like thirty minutes late.”

 

“Eesh. You know what that means, right?” Wynonna asked seriously.

 

“I’ve been stood up?”

 

“I was going to say he’s probably dead, but you know what? That makes more sense.” Even at her worst, Wynonna came to the other side of the counter and wrapped an arm around Waverly shoulders, giving her a little shake. “He’s crazy, though. Want me to light his car on fire or something?”

 

Waverly was really struggling with not saying yes when the bell above the door jangled. The both of them perked up, looking eagerly toward the front of the store. When Nicole warbled her greeting cheerfully, Waverly deflated again. Wynonna did just about the opposite.

 

“Haught! Just in time, there was talk of arson.”

 

“When and where?” She asked, spinning a display rack of keychains around as she turned the corner.

 

Wynonna laughed, delighted as always by illegality. And by Nicole. “Waverly got stood up. Want to blow a gas tank?”

 

“Stood up?” Nicole echoed, turning to give Waverly a blank look. “I’m here, though.”

 

Waverly’s forehead hit the counter while Wynonna laughed. “She got stood up by some  _ boy _ she was going to go out with tonight.”

 

“Oh - uh.  _ Oh _ ,” Nicole said intelligently. When Waverly peaked out from where she’d planted her face in the counter, Nicole was swallowing hard and nodding to herself. It made Waverly pause to see Nicole so adrift for a long minute. In the end, Nicole managed to summon a smile and an almost genuine laugh. “Right. Well, he’s an idiot.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Wynonna agreed.

 

Waverly had just about resigned herself to spending the night coming up with inventive ways to prevent her sister and her best friend from ending up in jail (again) when the bell above the door rustled again. The three of them looked up to see the object of their gossip wiping his shoes on the mat and straightening his expensive hair.

 

“Champ?” Nicole asked incredulously.

 

“Champ!” Waverly said with a smile.

 

“ _ Champ?” _ Wynonna repeated, aghast.

 

Waverly shot her sister a warning look and walked over to greet him. “Hi, Champ. I thought maybe you weren’t coming.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, face falling. “My dad wouldn’t let me leave until I helped him move some furniture in his study. I’m really glad you’re still here.”

 

_ “Champ? _ Like...that’s your  _ name _ ?” Wynonna asked, properly horrified. “Oh my god. Are you named after a dog? Are you named after your dad’s nickname for his own d-”

 

“Wynonna!”

 

Nicole was uncharacteristically quiet, but Wynonna was scoffing enough for the both of them. “I’m sorry about them,” Waverly said, reaching out to squeeze Champ’s hand. For his part, Champ just smiled down at her and shrugged. “Wait here and I’ll get my purse from the back,” Waverly said, excitement thrilling through her at the prospect of a real  _ date _ . With a boy!

 

She practically skipped around the counter into the back storeroom, searching frantically for her purse. When she turned around to leave, though, Nicole was standing there with her back against the door, looking the slightest bit more pale and serious than she usually did. “That’s…” Nicole swallowed hard and looked down at her shoes. “That’s the guy you’re going out with?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Waverly asked, crossing her arms defensively.

 

Nicole swallowed some more and grimaced. “He’s friends with Bobo, you know? Don’t you know what Bobo and his buddies  _ do _ to...people,” she said quietly. “They’re a bunch of rich assholes.”

 

“Champ’s been nothing but nice to me,” Waverly bristled.

 

Nicole rolled her eyes and ground her teeth. “Yeah, I bet he is. That’s how they get what they want, Waves. And don’t you care that he’s nice to  _ other _ people? Doesn’t that matter to you? He’s going to use you to get what he wants and throw you away like you’re nothing.”

 

Taking a few bold steps closer, Waverly tried to stand tall and angry against her best friend. “He likes me the way I am and he’s actually interested in what I have to say.”

 

“I’m interested in what you have to say!” Nicole threw her hands up. “There’s got to be a higher bar than that!”

 

“Nicole. I need you to listen very carefully:  _ I’m not your girlfriend _ ,” Waverly inflicted. She knew the second she’d said it, she’d only done it to hurt her. And it worked.

 

Nicole’s back hit the door when she scooted back into it like a trapped animal. A whole hand taller than Waverly, and she still felt like Nicole was looking up at her. “I-” Nicole shook her head sadly. “I know that. God - of course I do. I’d never ask you to- I’d never want you to-”

 

Even through her anger, Waverly felt her heart jerk toward her ribs, egging her to take it back. She was confused and angry and hurt, though, and she couldn’t figure out what she wanted. Just when she thought maybe Nicole was going to do something horrifying like start crying, she took a deep breath in and steeled her gaze.

 

“Waverly, this isn’t about me. I don’t care that you don’t love me. Have you ever noticed that?” She bled, standing away from the door so Waverly could leave. “I don’t  _ need _ you to love me. I’ll always love you, no matter what. But right now? Right now I don’t even really like you.”

 

Waverly found it in herself to glare harder. “I don’t need your approval, Nicole.”

 

“No you don’t,” Nicole agreed. “But when Mr. Champion winds up hurting you the exact way I’m saying he will, please don’t come crying back to me for my help. I won’t be there.”

 

Waverly snatched the door open and stormed out, grabbing Champ by the arm as she made her way out of the store.

  
  


+++

 

Waverly slammed Champ’s car door closed with a little more force than was necessary. She was too pissed off to even appreciate how sleek his ride was – the pristine leather seats, gorgeous dashboard, and finely detailed paint job. Wait no. It was back. She could appreciate it again.

 

Champ gave her a charming smile from the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb. The grin turned into something a little more introspective as he kept his eye on traffic. “Who was that?”

 

“My sister?”

 

“The one you were yelling at.”

 

Waverly grimaced and turned to watch the streetlamps march past her window as they headed north on 123 rd . “Childhood friend,” she muttered like it was a curse word. Sometimes it was. Nicole was obnoxious for the sole reason that she was usually right. But not about Champ. Or sticking her nose in Waverly’s business like that. Waverly was seventeen for christ’s sake – she knew exactly what was best for her. She knew everything. She was a grown-up.

 

“Yeah, they can be the worst,” Champ chuckled. “My friend Tony gets under my skin like crazy. They know how to push all your buttons.”

 

“Yeah, well, Nicole doesn’t have any buttons. She’s unflappable. And the worst.”

 

“Unflappable?” Champ gave her a nervous smile. “What does that mean?”

 

“Nothing really gets to her. She’s just so self-possessed. Never misses a beat.”

 

“Damn. You’re awful smart for someone so pretty,” he simpered. When he reached out one meaty hand to try and place it on her inner thigh, Waverly jerked her knee to the side so his hand fell limply on the side of her seat. Life would be a lot easier if every guy didn’t possess some horrible, corrupted gene that made them say and do some of the dumbest things on earth. In fact, life would be easier if men just didn’t speak. But dammit if his hair wasn’t expensive looking.

 

Champ retracted his hand, fidgeting when he went back to grip the steering wheel. He tried to covertly wipe his hands off on his jeans, but Waverly was watching his hands intently, weary of where they might try and grope her next. Men also shouldn’t be allowed to have hands. There would be no discreet hand wiping on Waverly’s watch.

 

“Well,  _ you  _ seemed to have gotten to her,” he pushed on valiantly. “She sounded pretty wrecked.” He said like it was supposed to cheer her up at all.

Waverly swallowed hard, flashing back to the devastated look on Nicole’s normally unflappable face. She supposed Champ was right – she  _ had _ ….flapped her. But Nicole had deserved it, right? Nicole cared so much for her that sometimes she needed to be reminded that Waverly could make her  _ own  _ terrible decisions. And good decisions too, of course.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Waverly muttered. “So where are we going?”

 

Champ took a right on Prewitt Street and began cruising up into some of the mini mansions in the northside neighborhood. “My buddy Bobo is having a house party. His parents are away for the weekend.”

 

“Bobo?” Waverly asked with little effort to mask her disgust. “I’m not sure I want to go to his party. Can’t we do something else?”

 

Champ laughed away her discomfort. “Oh, c’mon. I know he can be rough around the edges, but we’re good friends. I promise it’s going to be fun.”

 

“I’m not sure,” Waverly tried to lead him away from the idea, but he didn’t pick it up at all.

 

“Please?” He asked with a sincere, hopeful smile. “If you don’t like it, we can always leave.”

 

As a teenage girl, Waverly was ill-equipped to deal with a person not accepting her desire to  _ not  _ do something at face value. It happened all the time, of course. But she still had no idea what she was supposed to do with that. It ranked high on her list of things she wished she had been taught in public school. Backed into a corner, Waverly nodded hesitantly. “Okay, I guess.”

 

“Great!” Champ crowed, pointing them up into some of the most ostentatious houses in Purgatory. When they stopped in front of probably the most garish feat of modern capitalistic fulfillment, Waverly only kind of wanted to throw up. Bobo’s house had massive, carved marble  _ lions  _ guarding his front gate. Lions! While they got buzzed in by an honest to god PA system, Waverly fantasized about Bobo getting eaten by lions.

 

Champ held her door open for her when they parked in the massive turn-around driveway and offered his hand to help her out. Nobody had ever done that for her before. Except Nicole. But Nicole was a big weirdo.

 

Waverly smiled and accepted Champ’s hand, which he suavely tucked into the crook of his elbow and led her toward the front door. Nobody greeted them there, as the door was propped open for people to come and go as they pleased. Inside was a veritable Sociologist’s wet dream. Microcosms of intrapersonal drama, social mores and taboos, performative relationships, and developmental nightmares played out in every corner of the first of what Waverly was  _ sure  _ was  _ many  _ living rooms with progressively fancier names. Like  _ ‘foyer’ _ , or  _ ‘rumpus room’ _ . Or whatever the hell.

 

“Isn’t Bobo’s house cool? Look how big his foyer is,” Champ chuckled.

 

Waverly told you so.

 

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” Champ said excitedly, ignoring Waverly’s calls that she didn’t actually want to drink anything. He was already pile-driving through the hordes of teenagers clogging the living room. Foyer. Whatever.

 

Waverly sighed and found a nice, mostly unoccupied corner to tuck herself into. Sure there was a couple trying to figure out how to kiss as sexually as possible next to her. But they weren’t paying her any mind, and Waverly figured that was the best possible scenario.

 

Champ came back quickly enough, which was a bigger relief than it should have been. He handed her a mysterious, red drink that smelled like jet fuel. At his encouraging smile, she pressed it against her teeth and pretended to take a drink. Champ opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a hard slap on his back.

 

“Champ!”

 

“Bobo!”

 

Fuck.

 

“I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t make it,” Bobo pouted, slinging an arm around Champ’s shoulders. “And-“ His eyes flicked over to Waverly’s and widened in genuine surprise. “Oh! Waverly Earp, as I live and breath.”

 

Unfortunately. “Robert,” she greeted with as fake a smile as she could summon.

 

“I never thought you’d come to  _ me _ . I always assumed I’d have to go to  _ you _ ,” he sneered.

 

Champ cleared his throat and reached for Waverly’s hand. His own was still pretty sweaty. “Bobo, Waverly’s here as my date.”

 

A flicker of something ugly passed across Bobo’s face, but it smoothed out so quickly into a sly smile that it was easy to believe it had never been there at all. “Your date? How lovely,” he said like he couldn’t have thought of something less lovely if he had imagined his own demise.

 

Funny enough, that’s what Waverly was currently imagining.  “That’s very kind of you, Champ. I only give to charity once per year and I’m afraid the salvation army already got me in January.”

 

Waverly ground her teeth together while Champ laughed. “He’s just joking,” Champ assured her.

 

Bobo looked at Waverly like,  _ I absolutely am not _ .

 

Oh, what fun.

 

“Charming,” she sniped. Forgetting what she had been holding, Waverly took a large gulp of the cherry-flavored jet fuel in her hand and only pure, unadulterated stubbornness kept her from choking it all back onto the expensive white rug. “Champ, want to dance?” She asked as a very desperate person who really didn’t want to dance with Sweaty Hands.

 

Champ perked up at the idea and took her in a moist hold toward one of the other thirty living rooms. “See you around, Bobo!” He called back to where Bobo was standing, stroking at his adolescent mustache like a French movie villain.

Champ was a pretty terrible dancer, but so was Waverly. So maybe they  _ were  _ soul mates. It was only a few minutes in when Champ seemed to fully realize how terrible he was and said they should go refill their drinks. Waverly hadn’t drank more than one terrible mouthful of her own, but she agreed – if only to see how many kitchens someone like Bobo’s parents thought they needed.

 

The first kitchen they came to had too many people playing basketball in it. Apparently. As Champ led her to a second kitchen – current score: 2 – Waverly found herself inexplicably missing Nicole.

 

The second kitchen didn’t have any sports games occurring inside them, but it did have Bobo occurring inside it, which was much worse. Champ didn’t seem to think so, though, and he led her over to a big, crystal serving bowl of punch-flavored jet fuel. Bobo surveyed them from the corner of his eye, one arm wrapped around Stephanie Jones. Stephanie looked one shot of jet fuel from departing this Earth. Bobo probably thought she was being clingy in a sexy way, but Waverly wasn’t confident that Stephanie could stand on her own anymore.

 

After Champ refilled his cup, he finally noticed that Waverly had barely touched her own. “Oh – you’re not drinking yours?”

 

“Yeah, I’m not much of a drinker,” Waverly said, thinking that perhaps this experience would change that in the near future. “Lightweight.”

 

“That’s cute.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Bobo propped Stephanie against the refrigerator and came over to ruin her life some more. “Enjoying yourself, Waverly? This must be so much for you to take in. You live on the Westside, right? That charming one-story with the rusted out Chevy on cinder blocks in the front yard?”

 

“That’s the one,” Waverly ground out. “And honestly? This isn’t that big of a deal for me.”

 

“Your sister works at Shorty’s right? I heard their waitresses make pennies there,” he said smugly. “Does welfare pay for your school lunches?”

 

“Actually, Wynonna makes great tips. Your dad always gives her a twenty when she wears skirts,” Waverly snapped back.

 

Bobo floundered a moment. “My dad doesn’t – he doesn’t go to places like – he-“

 

Champ looked between the two with a polite, brain-dead smile on his face. “I’ve never been to Shorty’s. Is it fun?”

 

“It’s a shithole,” Bobo snapped, anger betraying what he kept just behind his slimy skin.

 

Waverly smiles back smugly and reaches for Champ’s arm. “You know what? Let’s get out of here, Champ. This party’s boring me a little.”

 

In retrospect, it sounded a little more sexy than she intended, but Champ took the bait and nodded dumbly. “Oh! Uh, right. Yeah! Whatever you want, babe.”

 

Waverly was no man’s babe, but Champ was her ride out of there. She took it on the chin, smiling sweetly up at him and tugging him toward where she hoped the  front door was. Honestly, she was pretty lost in the Del Ray’s mansion at that point. Before she could clear the kitchen, Bobo shouted after her.

 

“Hey! Say hi to that queer of yours. Ask her how her ribs are doing. She took a nasty fall on my boot yesterday.”

 

+++

 

Waverly had been so focused on escaping the party to Champ’s shiny black car, that she almost forgot she had accidentally, sort of sexually propositioned him. He gave her such a  _ look  _ when they were settled in his car, that she started frantically thinking of ways to be less sexy. And that honestly wasn’t a problem she ever thought she’d have as a seventeen year old, impoverished, mostly unpopular Earp. But there they were.

 

“What did he mean about Nicole?” Waverly blurted out.

 

That was an unsexy topic. Not that Nicole wasn’t sexy. She just didn’t think Champ would be in the  _ mood _ during a conversation about her gay best friend. Nicole was plenty sexy. But not – not like Waverly had ever personally thought about that? Not often anyways. Not…whatever.

 

“Huh?”

 

“He said Nicole got hurt yesterday. Did Bobo hurt her?” She asked, concern flooding her the more she thought about it. She hadn’t  _ seemed  _ hurt. Not physically. Emotionally, yes. Waverly had definitely hurt her feelings. Oh, god. She’d done that. That was still a thing.

 

“Oh, no,” Champ said dismissively, sticking his keys in the ignition and bringing his purring engine to life. So that’s what a real engine sounded like. “We were just messing with her. It was all in good fun.”

 

“That…doesn’t sound like fun,” Waverly murmured. She turned to appraise him, wondering just what he was capable of. “Are you sure?”

 

“Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you,” he said sweetly, reaching out for her hand again. That put them in dangerous, sexy territory again, though, so Waverly scooted sideways in her seat like she was busy trying to find her seatbelt. He sighed at the rejection, but retracted his hand. “So, what do you want to do now?”

 

“I don’t know. I’m pretty tired. I think I’d just like to go home,” she sighed. The day had been far too much for her. What she really wanted was to wrap herself in four blankets, pet Cole’s ears, and make Wynonna listen to how dumb her life was. Wynonna’s life was also dumb, so she got it most of the time. Nicole’s life was dumb too, but Waverly had gone and made it dumber so that door was closed.

 

Champ pouted at her, eyes shining in earnest disappointment. “Aw, c’mon. The night is still young. Let’s go somewhere you like. How about that bar? Uh, Shorty’s?”

 

“I don’t know,” Waverly hedged. It wasn’t that Shorty’s was an unimpressive bar. It was that Shorty’s was a terrifying, awful bar full of scum and villainy.

 

Champ smiled big and wide and charming, though. “Please? I want to get to know you. I’ll have a good time anywhere we go, as long as I’m with you.”

 

Waverly sighed.

 

+++

 

Wynonna found Nicole wandering around near the end of 125 th , collecting cans for pennies, but mostly for throwing at cars from the overpass. “Jesus, kid,” she called out from Waverly’s car. “What are you doing out?”

 

“Mom has guests,” Nicole said with a shrug.

 

“Yeah, but what are you doing?”

 

Nicole held up a trash bag. “Collecting cans.”

 

“Okay, this-“ Wynonna pulled the car over and kicked open the passenger door. “I can’t watch whatever this is happen. This is a new level of pathetic.”

 

“Thanks, I get that a lot.”

 

“Get in, twerp,” Wynonna commanded. “Put your cans in the trunk. Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t a boob joke.” When Nicole flopped into the passenger seat, less vibrant than usual, Wynonna heaved out a long-suffering groan. “How did I end up the keeper of angsty teenagers?” She leaned over and wrestled Nicole into a seatbelt. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s go get you an age appropriate drink at Shorty’s.”

 

“Like…soda?”

 

“No, like vodka.”

 

+++

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my insurance doesn't cover party organs but it does cover my inability to write anything under 20k words. ive got writer's cramp.


	4. part iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its late because i don't like you?
> 
> (...but rather...i love you....)

+++

Bobby tried only briefly to stop them at the door, but when he saw the look on Nicole’s face he balked. When he saw the look on Wynonna’s face, he stood aside completely. If Nicole were in a less foul mood, this might have been one of the more exciting nights of her life. But her life was garbage and nothing mattered.

 

“Come on, I’ll buy you a burger at the bar, you skinny little freak.”

 

Nicole’s life was garbage and  _ one _ thing mattered.

 

When Wynonna put a big plate of crappy bar fries and a burger down in front of her, followed shortly by a tall fruity cocktail of unknown origins, Nicole inhaled it all with alarming speed. The speed was perhaps less alarming compared to how many drinks Wynonna put away in the same timeframe.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Wynonna finally ventured.

 

Nicole leaned back in her chair and frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe not?”

 

“Thank god,” Wynonna breathed out. “Jukebox requests? I’ve got one for ‘Dancing Queen’. Do I hear a second?“

 

“Ugh.”

 

“That’s two for ‘Dancing Queen’. Sold,” she crowed, pushing away from their table and heading for the jukebox next to the empty stage. When the intro revved up and filled the dingy space, several occupants groaned. They had to have been used to it by then, though. Nicole let her forehead fall onto the table and hummed along.

 

Wynonna came back with two even taller drinks and pushed one against Nicole’s collapsed head. When Nicole didn’t lift her face from the table, Wynonna groaned. “Oh, geez. You’re hurting bad, aren’t you? You know Waverly’s just being a dip, right? You’re both dips. It’s not your fault, you’re teenagers. This’ll blow over just like all this new wave crap.”

 

“I think she was kind of right, though,” Nicole said glumly. If Waverly hadn’t been even a  _ little _ right, Nicole probably wouldn’t have felt so terrible. “Maybe I was being a little overbearing.”

 

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re both just  _ dips _ ,” she laughed. “It’s okay, though. Nicole, you’re young. You’re sweet.  _ Only seventeen _ ,” she crooned.

 

“I’m nineteen.”

 

“Yeah, don’t care. Guess how many times I loaded up this song?”

 

“You’re not helping at all.”

 

“You’re right, it’s better if it’s a surprise,” Wynonna nodded sagely. She watched Nicole sit up, prop her cheek on her hand and sip half-heartedly at the massive glass of whiskey she’d put in front of her. “Damn, this is really chapping your khakis, huh?”

 

“That guy –  _ Champ _ . He’s a tool! Him and Bobo are always putting my stuff in toilets and using me as a punching bag. Well - Champ doesn’t really do that stuff. But he sees Bobo doing it to me and thinks it’s funny. What can she possibly see in him?” Nicole lamented.

 

Wynonna flagged over a waitress as she drained her glass. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten past the notion that he wants people to call him ‘Champ’. Literally nothing else I know about him has made it past that barrier.”

 

“That’s fair. But he’s a  _ jerk _ , Wynonna. Or just aggressively idiotic. Maybe I’m out of line and maybe I’ve projected too much on Waverly, but she deserves way better than  _ that guy _ .” Nicole pulled a face and took a hearty swallow of her drink.

 

Wynonna nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but Waverly’s a smart gal. I think sometimes you just have to let a person make their mistakes. If he’s what you says he is, she’ll figure it out quick. Neither of us can protect her from that. She’ll only resent us. And that’s kinda fair – she’s a big girl.”

 

Nicole gave her a tired look over her drink. “You’re so old and wise.”

 

“I’m like four years older than you, you fuck. Shorty! I’m not paying for her anymore!” she called. Shorty didn’t look up, just flipped her off as per the apparent routine. Nicole watched with vague interest, and thus, caught the exact moment that Waverly walked into Shorty’s with  _ Champ  _ on her arm.

 

“Shit!” She cursed, turning back to hide her face. “What the hell are they doing here?” She hissed, hooking a thumb over her shoulder so Wynonna could see what she was freaking out about.

 

When Wynonna saw them, she started laughing. At Nicole’s glare, she somehow managed to stifle it and look moderately contrite. “I’m sorry, kid. I’m still just thinking about how his name is  _ Champ _ . I’m pretty drunk. God, Waverly has terrible taste.”

 

“No, that’s a good thing,” Nicole murmured, still successfully hiding her face from the two while they were at the bar ordering drinks. “I need her to have bad taste, or she’ll never be interested in me.”

 

“Dude, have you ever actually made a move on her?”

 

Nicole gave a defensive scoff and reached across the table to steal Wynonna’s drink, surprised when Wynonna made no move to stop her. “Of course I have. I’ve held her locker open for her every day for four years.”

 

“You just…hold it open?” Wynonna asked slowly. “You don’t say, like, ‘ _ hey I’m really in love with you _ ’ while you hold open the locker?”

 

“Nope. Just kinda...hold it open,” Nicole said vaguely, waving her hand in front of her face. “Why, do you think I should have? Just blurted it out like that?”

 

“Oh boy.”

 

“Hey, it’s your sister!” Champ announced over the heads of the bars sparse patrons, pulling Waverly over toward their table.

 

_ “Oh boy _ ,” Wynonna repeated, shooting Nicole a wide-eyed look across the graveyard of empty glasses in between them.

 

“Hey!” Champ greeted, cradling Waverly’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “Mind if we join you?” His face was the only one that looked like he wouldn’t mind the marriage of those two groups, but he made up all of their minds by seating himself in the chair next to Wynonna. Nicole and Waverly stared at the empty chair next to Nicole until Wynonna stood abruptly and moved to sit next to Nicole.

 

+++

  
  


“Here, you two sit together,” Wynonna said nervously. Nicole glared at her hands resting on the tabletop while Waverly took the seat next to Champ. It felt kind of like they were sitting across from each other at a pre-disciplinary hearing. Or divorce court. And instead of having to choose which parent Waverly was going to live with it was which fight she wanted to get into. Or which person was going to ruin her life.

 

_ Plot twist _ , Waverly thought, trying to wrestle her hand away from Champ’s sweaty death grip,  _ it was me all along. _

 

“So,” Wynonna started, doing her very best impersonation of a sober person. Which was to say, not very good. “What brings you...fine folks here. How has your... _ outing _ . Been.”

 

Nicole shot Wynonna an incredulous look, but it was less sober than whatever Wynonna was attempting. Waverly just managed to catch Nicole’s eye before Nicole glared and returned to nursing her drink like she wasn’t there.

 

“Pretty good,” Champ said enthusiastically. “We were at a house party that got a little too rowdy for us. Waverly mentioned she liked this place.”

 

Wynonna probably thought she was being covert with the doubtful look she sent her. “She did, did she?  _ Waverly _ said that. About this place. That we are currently at.”

 

“Sure did,” Champ agreed, turning to wave over some drinks for his unwilling guests.

 

Waverly nodded a little too eagerly and buried her face in the beer Champ handed her before it had even hit the table. She  _ hated _ beer. But in that moment she definitely hated being sober much more. “Yep,” she muttered.

 

“Do you guys come here a lot?” Champ asked. Wynonna gave Nicole a look, but Nicole was still staring stubbornly into her drink. As the likelihood of receiving an answer faded, Champ took a long, uncomfortable sip of his beer.

 

Waverly ground her teeth together, feeling the irrational flare of anger that shot up her spine and curled her toes. Well, irrational was perhaps a strong word. But if Nicole was determined to pretend Waverly no longer existed, Waverly wasn’t going to make it easy on her. Friends aren’t supposed to make things easy for you. They’re supposed to ruin your life. And Nicole was already doing such a super job of that.

 

“This place is so neat!” Champ laughed, waving his beer around. “It’s so edgy.”

 

Waverly glared as hard as humanly possible at Nicole’s downturned face.

 

“Aren’t you guys, like, afraid to come here?”

 

Waverly began to grind her heel into Nicole’s toes under the table.

 

“So dangerous. It’s like Pulp Fiction in here.”

 

Waverly was much too busy kicking her boot against Nicole’s ankle to point out that that movie was anachronistically completely out of place in the current story.

 

“Has anyone ever died in here?”

 

Wynonna pushed Waverly’s boot to the ground and trapped it with a pointed grimace in Champ’s direction. “Not yet,” she said sweetly.

 

When Waverly turned to glare at her, Wynonna returned one of equal, if not greater intensity. Waverly really should’ve known better than to pit her own against the woman who invented it. “It’s okay, Champ,” Waverly said, “Nicole’s never been here either. She’s not allowed in here because she’s a  _ child _ .”

 

Nicole tipped the ice cubes in her drink into her mouth and leaned backward on the back two legs of her chair to watch the empty stage with apparent interest.

 

Waverly could only handle so much. The noise her hand made when she slapped it on the table top was a little bit dramatic, but it got Nicole to look at her for a moment. “Really?” She seethed. “You’re going to sit there and ignore me?”

 

Wynonna and Champ shared a look. Nicole just shrugged like,  _ duh _ .

 

“Ugh! You’re such a jerk,” Waverly spat. “Why do you always have to be  _ right _ all the time? Huh? Why can’t you just do what everyone else does? Why can’t you just say,  _ hey Waverly, I’m super happy for you doing normal things and being an idiotic teenager. Have fun on your date! You deserve it!” _

 

Finally, Nicole’s face broke into a serene smile while Wynonna started to sweat visibly. Champ looked like he was pleasantly lost on a pleasant, scenic oceanic drive. “I  _ am _ happy for you,” Nicole said sardonically. “ _ So _ happy. Why? Don’t I look happy?”

 

“I swear to god, Nicole-”

 

“And you  _ do _ deserve it,” Nicole continued with that same, stupid smile. “You two  _ totally _ deserve each other. You know what I’ve always said to myself? That Waverly girl. You know what she deserves? A man named after an intramural children’s soccer trophy with the world’s most astonishingly sweaty hands. Ask anyone. I’ve always said that.”

 

“You should see me after football practice,” Champ laughed.

 

Waverly didn’t feel a whole lot for Champ Hardy, but in that moment she thought he would make really great ammunition if she picked him up bodily and hurled his full weight into Nicole’s smug face. Might it kill her? Yes. Was she willing to risk that? Update to follow.

 

“It’s not about being right,” Waverly hissed. “It’s about being my  _ friend _ .”

 

“He watched Bobo put my shoes in a toilet! They cut out the back pockets of my jeans during gym class! He laughed when they wrote ‘QUEER’ in gasoline on my locker and lit it on fire!” Nicole threw her hands up. “And I’ll admit: it looked really cool! But if I’m going to be a flaming queer it’s going to be my decision!”

 

Waverly faulted a moment, turning to look at the embarrassed tint on Champ’s cheeks. “He...you wouldn’t, right?”

 

“That was Bobo,” Champ said sweetly, reacquainting her with The World’s Most Astonishingly Sweaty Hands. “I was just joking around. Babe, I think you’re friend’s just a little jealous.” He turned to look at Nicole apologetically. “I know this must be hard for you.”

 

“Great!” Nicole leaned back dangerously hard in her chair and grinned at Wynonna, a little crazed. “You hear that? He knows!”

 

Wynonna took Champ’s beer from under his award-winning hands and began drinking it all in an impressive, continuous draught.

 

“I’d be happy for  _ you _ if you told me you were going out with someone,” Waverly accused.

 

Nicole scoffed. “Easy for you to say. We both know I’m dying alone, so try again sweetheart.”

 

“I’m serious!”

 

“Okay. Scenario: tomorrow I’m going on a date with Stephanie Jones. We’re gonna do the do in her parent’s four thousand dollar California King bed and I’m going to believe her when she says that she was  _ totally _ kidding about your face looking like a cockroach. Still happy?”

 

“That’s…” Waverly pulled her hand back into her lap and deflated. “That’s different,” she whispered.

 

Nicole spread her hands on the table and leaned forward, sincere for the first moment since they’d walked into Shorty’s. “It doesn’t  _ feel _ different. Not to me, Waverly.”

 

“That’d be hot, though. Stephanie Jones with another chick,” Champ supplied, helpfully.

 

Nicole nodded seriously at Champ. “Yes. Yes it would, Champion.” When she turned to look at Waverly again, she was dangerously drunk. And full of the same fire as before, unfortunately. “You’d be happy for me, huh? That’s it? Just...happy?”

 

“Yes,” Waverly muttered.

 

“Great. It’s your lucky day, then,” Nicole declared. And then, in a move that would likely haunt Waverly as long as she lived, Nicole turned to where Wynonna was pushing aside Champ’s empty pint, grabbed her sister by the face, and pulled her into a full-contact kiss. Like,  _ full _ contact. Like one of those kisses that Waverly had to turn away from when she was watching a movie because it was just a little too passionate to stare openly at.

 

Champ made some noise like he’d just been told he was going to get eight birthdays that year and Warren Buffett was going to be at all of them.

 

Waverly didn’t make a peep.

 

When Nicole pulled away, full of triumph and cheeks as red as her hair, she stood abruptly. Wynonna just sat there, blinking. After a long, uncomfortable moment, she reached for Waverly’s beer and began drinking that too.

 

“Good even’n gentlemen,” Nicole slurred before turning on her heel and disappearing out the back doors.

  
  


+++

 

Nicole walked four miles home alone, streetlights swimming.

 

+++

 

Waverly was basically numb by the time they got in Champ’s car and he asked her where he should drop her off. Her mouth opened on autopilot, but closed just as quickly when her senses returned to her.

 

“Uh, no. No, I’ll get a ride from Wynonna or something. It’s alright.”

 

Champ gave her a confused smile. “Your sister’s definitely not driving anywhere tonight. That stuff back there, though? Kinda hot, yeah?”

 

“No. A thousand times, no.” Waverly pushed her door open. “It’s fine, I’ll get a ride from someone else.”

 

“Waverly, wait,” Champ scrambled, reaching out to grab her door. “It’s cold out. I’m not trying to invite myself in or anything, I swear. Please let me drive you home.”

 

Trapped and cornered, Waverly hid her face in her hands. “Please don’t. I’m so embarrassed.”

 

“Embarrassed about what?” Champ asked kindly. He reached out to remove her hands from her face. “Was it something I did?”

 

“No, it’s me.” Waverly gave him a tearful look. “I live on the west side. My house is...really crappy. And small. I’d rather you didn’t see it.”

 

“Is that all it was?” Champ laughed and shifted his car in drive. “Tell me where to go. I don’t care about a thing like that.”

 

And he said it so genuinely that Waverly nodded and let him drive her through some of the ugliest streets in Purgatory right up to the driveway of one of the ugliest homes on the block. She sighed and looked at him from under her eyelashes, terrified of what she might see there. At worst, Champ just seemed kind of intrigued by something so outside of his world. He said nothing, though, and turned to give her a smile.

 

“I had a good time tonight,” he grinned.

 

Waverly raised one eyebrow, wondering where exactly he’d been all night.

 

“I’m serious!” He laughed at the look she’d given him. “You’re fun to be around. Your friends are kinda weird, but at least you’re interesting.”

 

The relief she felt when he hadn’t outright turned his nose up at her ugly house coursed through her like pure adrenaline. So when he gave her that charming grin and leaned in slowly, asking if he could kiss her, she gave her breathless consent.

 

And yeah, his hands were still sweaty, but she’d  _ kissed a real boy! _ She’d done a normal thing! And maybe he tasted like stale saliva and beer, but Waverly Earp had gotten in her first kiss before the end of high school, so Stephanie Jones could suck it.

 

When he pulled back with a goofy smile and breathed, “Will you go to prom with me?” Waverly didn’t think things got any better than that.

 

+++

 

It took eight cooled and wasted cups of coffee and four neurotic hours of waiting on the couch with trembling hands before Wynonna ran her body into the front door and cursed at it. She eventually found the handle and trudged inside, no worse for wear. Waverly hadn’t been able to sleep since The Kiss.

 

“Wynonna!” She burst out, quite unable to help herself.

 

“Ack!” Wynonna shouted, tripping into an end table and brandishing an umbrella at the intruder. “Oh, jesus. Why are you awake? There better not be a naked teenage boy upstairs who just touched his first boob. I swear to god.”

 

Waverly blushed, but rolled her eyes. “No. God. No. He dropped me off. I was just worried about you.”

 

“No you weren’t,” Wynonna said suspiciously.  _ Accurately _ .

 

Waverly coughed and deflected. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

 

“Love of my life,” Wynonna murmured, leaning down to kiss Waverly’s temple before heading for the kitchen. Waverly thought she was capable of waiting there patiently for Wynonna to fix her coffee, but that turned out not to be true. After thirty seconds of fidgeting, she leapt up and followed her.

 

Wynonna was leaning against the counter, stirring her coffee. She blinked lazily at Waverly when she came in and plopped herself on a chair, immediately bouncing her leg like she’d drank the last eight ruined pots of coffee single-handedly. “What’s wrong, kid?”

 

“Huh? Oh, nothing.”

 

Wynonna gave her a flat look. “Out with it. You’ve been dying to tell me something since I walked in and-”

 

“Champ kissed me!” Waverly exploded.

 

It was a little less than satisfying that Wynonna didn’t even seem surprised. She nodded slowly, twirling her spoon and settling on a small smile. “Yeah?”

 

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Waverly confided.

 

The sun was beginning to rise against the back of the house, casting a thin slant of light against Wynonna’s back. “I know that,” she said kindly. “You tell me everything.”

 

“I do not,” she pouted, puffing out her cheeks because it was kind of true.

 

Wynonna shrugged and turned to watch the sun gain ground in their kitchen. “Was it nice?”

 

“Yeah, it was kind of a relief,” Waverly admitted, propping her face on the heel of her hand. “I didn’t think anyone was ever going to kiss me.”

 

“That’s not true,” Wynonna smiled. “Were you glad it was Champ?”

 

Waverly’s brow furrowed. “I guess? I wasn’t really thinking about it at the time. I was just kind of excited I got kissed.”   
  


“That’s fair,” Wynonna shrugged. The one nice thing about having a disaster for a sister was she was fairly low on the judgment scale. “Do you want to kiss him again?”

 

“Maybe.” Waverly frowned at her folded hands. “Before we kissed, I didn’t feel like we had much in common. But he  _ kissed _ me.”

 

Almost to herself, Wynonna let out a low laugh under her breath. “I know the feeling. But - and I’m not trying to bust your chops, kiddo - just remember that he’s the same person he was  _ before _ he kissed you. That stuff’s not going away just because he thinks you’re pretty.” Wynonna leaned down to press one last kiss to the top of Waverly’s head while she made her way toward the stairs to her bedroom, coffee in tow. “There’s going to be a lot of people who think you’re pretty and want to kiss you. I’m glad you had a good time. Just remember that those qualities don’t make a person special.”

 

Waverly listened to her bang around up the banister. “I would know! I got kissed by someone real special last night,” she called down the stairs.

 

“ _ Forever _ , never talk to me about that.”

 

“It was not...unpleasant.”

 

“Wynonna!”

 

+++

 

Nicole saw Waverly again the following Monday and, if it was at all possible, she was  _ still _ hungover.  _ Was _ that possible? To get plastered on a Friday and still feel like death on a Monday? It must have been, because there she was.

 

Waverly was sitting alone on the back stoop, eating her lunch. Another brown paper bag sat next to her and Nicole wasn’t close enough to read it, but she was certain it was her own name written on the side. Waverly was looking around, kind of dejected. Looking for  _ her _ .

 

Nicole wondered if a hangover could be fatal. Hoped, perhaps.

 

They’d both been horse’s asses. Each one of them had been a single horse’s butt cheek. Together, they were one complete ass. Maybe that was true love, she mused as she backed off and disappeared around the side of the school.

  
  


+++

  
  


“Really ruined that one, didn’t I?” Nicole mused as she leaned against the decrepit manual lawn trimmer. “Of all the ways I pictured ruining it, this wasn’t even in the top twenty.”

 

Wynonna looked on sympathetically from her porch. “Why are you badly mowing our lawn again?”

 

“I don’t know. I made a commitment? I’m lonely? I need a distraction? Take your pick,” she grunted as she sawed the blades back and forth to get them to do  _ anything _ that resembled trimming the grass.

 

Wynonna grimaced. “Yeah, that’s fine and all. But you’re definitely making it worse.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know: avoiding my problems is exacerbating my loneliness - digging a deeper emotional hole. Wasting my-”

 

“No, I mean you’re making my lawn look worse.”

 

Nicole let the lawn trimmer fall dramatically. “I see. Even here I am not wanted.”

 

“That’s not true.” Wynonna sipped at her coffee and watched her neighbor across the street dump a laundry basket of clothes into his plastic kiddie pool. “You know Waverly’s going through a thing right now. And that  _ thing _ is being seventeen. You were both being assholes. And you’ll both get over it as soon as you actually talk to each other.”

 

“What does she see in him?” Nicole wondered for the millionth time.

 

Wynonna laughed into her coffee. “See? She doesn’t  _ see _ , Nicole. She’s stumbling blind, like any other teenager. Like  _ you _ . I agree that he’s a fuck. But Waverly’s smart and she’ll  _ get there _ . You treating her like she’s too stupid to reach her own conclusions and make her own mistakes  _ also _ makes you a fuck. The difference is, neither you nor Waverly are chronic. Don’t lose a friendship over something as dumb as growing up.”

 

“Honestly, how are you so wise?”

 

“It transfers through saliva. Ace any tests lately?”

 

“Ugh. Fuck you,” Nicole groaned, throwing herself into a porch chair and looking appropriately miserable. “Can we just never talk about that again?”

 

“That doesn’t sound like me at all,” Wynonna chuckled as she dropped into the neighboring chair. “Mr. Emerson’s doing laundry I see.”

 

Nicole watched him scrub at his underpants with a bar of shower soap. “Is that what he calls it. What’s the occasion?”

 

“I think his date went well,” Wynonna shrugged.

 

Nicole blew out a long sigh. “Well at least that makes one of us.”

  
  


+++

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, i know the chapter count has been sneaking upwards. but i swear its only 6 chapters and that's final. 
> 
> (and before someone inevitably puts me on blast because they were apparently a perfect teenager who never made poor decisions in the process of growing, remember that i am a computer-generated algorithm sponsored by the google corporation and i do not care.)


	5. part v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the good news: i finished this
> 
> the bad news: it finished me

+++

  
  
  


“I’m in a bit of a way,” Waverly admitted over dinner.

 

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you always? Really should’ve gotten a dog.”

 

Colt woofed under the table.

 

“Two dogs, then.”

 

Waverly sighed wistfully. “Remember when Champ kissed me?”

 

“Me, personally? No, I wasn’t there, Waves.”

 

“Wynonna, please. That night after we kissed he asked me to prom.” Stirring her spaghetti around on her plate, she avoided looking up at her sister at all costs. “And I said yes.”

 

Her response must’ve been a nod or something, because Wynonna remained otherwise silent. Unable to take it any longer, Waverly looked up cautiously. “That’s good, right? You’re the one who told me to go to prom.”

 

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Wynonna pointed her fork at Waverly’s plate. “Don’t make me get the funnel. Eat, Waves. It’s like one of the only things the state made me promise to do for you.”

 

Waverly shoveled a perfunctory forkful of noodles into her mouth. “Right, whatever. But this is good, right? It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

 

For a moment, Wynonna faltered. It was like sometimes she’d look at Waverly and Waverly knew that she was seeing an eight-year-old girl with pigtails and one glaringly missing front tooth. Most days, Waverly was certain Wynonna had never  _ stopped _ seeing that girl. And some days, Waverly wished she saw that too. “I want you to do what makes you  _ happy _ ,” Wynonna stressed, cocking her head to the side to study her baby sister. “I know I talked a big game about prom - and I meant it - but- well-” she made a frustrated noise. “I’m not making any sense. I wish you had a real parent to talk about stuff like this with.” She gave Waverly a rueful smile. “I really wish you had a real guardian. And not...” she gestured vaguely at herself.

 

“Wynonna, I don’t want anyone else,” Waverly said, scooting her chair closer. “I just want you to be proud of me,” she admitted.

 

“You are literally the only thing I’ve ever been proud of,” Wynonna assured her. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think prom will be fun, but don’t  _ be _ with someone or give someone some part of yourself just because it feels like something you  _ should _ do. That’s all. You don’t have to do anything.”

 

“Alright, weirdo,” Waverly said cheekily. “Is this the sex talk?”

 

“Oh, god. Can it be? Because if you’re going to settle for that, then god fucking bless.”

 

“Oh, no. I want details.”

 

“You’ve been to public school! There is literally nothing more graphic.” Wynonna stuck a meatball in her mouth, then made a face. “But I swear to god if you touch Champ’s weiner I’m going to pull his pubes out one at a time and knit him a new jock.”

 

“Hard to believe you also went to public school.” Waverly watched her sister fondly while she fit three more meatballs in her mouth. “I do have a problem, though. Where the hell am I going to get a prom dress?”

  
  


+++

 

The cold war lasted about as long as Waverly could stand - which was to say about four days. Eating lunch alone was terrible but her mornings were worse. She’d never actually realized how difficult it was to hold her locker open against it’s awkward broken-hinge tilt while she tried to get her books from the bottom shelf. It took her a full two of those days to realize that Nicole had held it open for her every morning for...forever? She’d always just thought Nicole was standing there. Hadn’t she been? Waverly supposed not.

 

On the fourth morning, her chemistry book slipped off the shelf and when she jerked down to grab it before it hit the floor and was kicked off into outer space by shuffling teenagers, her locker door swung forward and clocked her in the forehead.

 

Nobody asked her if she was okay.

 

The extra, uneaten lunch Wynonna had kept packing her burned a hole in her backpack as she made her way to history and was promptly tripped for the third time that week by Stephanie Jones and her new perm.

 

Waverly spent the next passing period trying not to cry in the girl’s bathroom.

 

When she ditched her third period class - the first time she’d ditched a class  _ ever _ \- she sulked down the halls that she knew weren’t monitored, toward the back doors. The weather was warming considerably, but still unpredictable. Sunny though it was, Waverly felt like a small rain cloud was following her - and only her - the whole way toward the baseball diamond.

 

She hadn’t even really had a destination in mind when she found herself out by the little greenhouse that the home economics teacher tended. The school had long since abolished the portion of Mrs. Weebly’s syllabus that involved going outside to the greenhouse, because three girls had gotten pregnant during the 70s  _ literally _ while Mrs. Weebly was in the greenhouse with them. Mrs. Weebly was about eight hundred years old, two feet tall, and was still waiting on bated breath to find out who had won World War II.

 

Surprisingly, the greenhouse looked...pretty good. All of the bulbs were coming in for the spring. Waverly wasn’t certain Mrs. Weebly could lift a piece of chalk anymore, let alone a watering can.

 

“Oh!”

 

“Jesus!” Waverly nearly jumped through her skin, crushing the book she’d brought to her chest while she tried to recover from a minor coronary.

 

“What are you doing here?” Nicole asked curiously.

 

Waverly tried determinedly to meet Nicole’s puzzled gaze, but couldn’t really do it for more than two seconds at a time. She was too ashamed. Too...lost. “N-nothing. Just...exploring.”

 

“Isn’t it third period?” Nicole grunted, hefting a massive coil of hose across the floor toward the shy daffodils beginning to peek out from the corner.

 

Waverly looked up, glad that Nicole wasn’t staring at her any longer and seemed involved in...watering plants? “Yeah,” she said slowly.

 

“Are you  _ skipping class _ ?” Nicole asked, dramatically aghast. “Waverly Earp, as I live and breathe.” Her joke was a little awkward - not  _ her _ Nicole. Not after everything. After a moment, Nicole’s smile broke and she turned off the hose. “Wait, is everything okay? Did something happen?”

 

In a moment of horror, Waverly felt her throat knot up and her eyes well. Which was awesome and not embarrassing at all. “No,” she said quietly.

 

“You - are you sure?”

 

“Yes?”

 

Nicole gave her a long look, then nodded. “Want to help water these plants?”

 

“Why are you watering plants?” Waverly asked, her voice cracking horribly.

 

One of Nicole’s hands came up to scratch at the bridge of her nose, rubbing a streak of dirt across it. “Oh, uh. I used to ditch chemistry here. Saw Mrs. Weebly trying to water her four tulips like one tablespoon of water at a time - it was all she could lift.” Nicole laughed to herself. “I just help out a bit. Makes the day go faster since I’m out here anyhow. Did you know Mrs. Weebly has her pilot’s license? She got it to fly over to the warzone alone and fight Nazis when the government turned her down for military service. She once chartered a one woman trip-  _ Ooof!” _

 

Waverly crashed into her, wrapping her arms around her waist in a dangerously tight stranglehold and hugging her like a lifeline. Nicole’s arms just kind of hovered at her sides, not sure what to do with the assault. “Um.”

 

“I  _ missed _ you,” Waverly choked out into the fabric of Nicole’s sweater.

 

Nicole’s hands settled awkwardly, one on Waverly’s back and the other on the back of her head. “Woah there, cowboy. Uh, don’t cry. Please? I have no idea what to do with that. Oh god.”

 

Waverly cried harder.

 

By the time she’d gotten a goddamn grip, Nicole was practically vibrating with anxiety. It made Waverly laugh a snotty laugh against her chest. “I’m okay,” she sniffled. “I’ve just had a really crappy week.”

 

“Join the club.”

 

“I’m sorry I said those things to you,” Waverly forced out. Nobody really tells you how difficult it is just  _ apologizing _ . Even when you really, really mean it. You can’t clean out the wound if you aren’t willing to air it out and it  _ stings _ . “I’m so, so sorry, Nicole. I was mad at you, but I shouldn’t have handled it that way. I’m just..I want - I’m so sorry.”

 

“Yeah,” Nicole said quietly. “I shouldn’t have been that way either. To be honest, Champ’s never really done anything all that terrible to me. He just hangs out with people who do, I guess. And I didn’t mean to be so controlling. I’m your friend - I should’ve just been happy for you. I should’ve just been  _ there _ for you.” She pushed Waverly back gently and offered her an embarrassed grimace. “And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel....uncomfortable. Or that I was trying to be gay at you or something. I don’t know.”

 

“You weren’t,” Waverly said quickly. “That wasn’t fair of me. I know you weren’t trying to say that we-” Waverly blushed. “Uh, yeah.”

 

Nicole looked away. “Right,” she said slowly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” She laughed awkwardly and cleared her throat. “I can try and get along with Champ, I guess.”

 

“He’s…” Waverly trailed off and looked up into Nicole’s eyes. “He’s not really mean to you is he? He doesn’t hurt you or call you names?” At Nicole’s silence, Waverly felt her stomach twist and held tighter to the front of Nicole’s sweater. “You’d tell me if he did, right?”

 

After a beat, Nicole shrugged and smiled. “Of course I would. Don’t worry about me, Waves. I’m a big girl.” She blew out a long breath and put a little distance between them to busy herself with the hose again. “So what, you gonna see him again? Are y’all goin’ steady?”

 

Waverly blushed and found herself at a loss. Just a few days ago, she could hardly wait to tell Wynonna that she’d had her first kiss and been asked to prom. But in the face of Nicole’s gentle expectation, she suddenly felt like she was harboring a dirty secret. But it would’ve felt just as wrong to  _ not _ say anything, so she quietly mumbled, “he asked me to prom.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“He asked me to prom,” she said so quickly it didn’t even sound like real words. There was no doubt that Nicole caught it, though. She’d been drowning the same daffodil for thirty seconds.

 

“Oh,” she finally said. After a beat too long, she shook her head and grinned. “Well, how ‘bout that. I’m happy for you. Was it…?” Nicole trailed off, cleared her throat again. “So you’re going to prom, then?”

 

“I guess so.” Waverly twisted her fingers together. “That’s exciting, right?”

 

“Not as exciting as throwing stuff in the quarry, but  _ almost _ ,” she teased. At Waverly’s nervous expression, Nicole smiled. “I’m just messing with you. I’m sure it’ll be great. He’s a really lucky guy, Waves. Don’t let him forget it.”

 

“Thanks, Nicole.” She sighed and kicked at some dirt on the ground. “Now I’ve just got to figure out how to get a dress in the next two weeks.”

  
  


“Sounds like we need to take you shopping.”   
  


 

+++

  
  


Waverly skipped down the stairs Saturday morning, eager to meet Nicole. She hadn’t realized how starved for her attention she’d been until she had it back. Nicole was just easy to be around - she was endless confidence and fun. She made Waverly feel like...well, Waverly.

 

“Where are you going?” Wynonna asked from over the back of the couch.

 

Waverly paused with the front door open. “Nicole and I are going shopping for my prom dress.”

 

“Nicole?” Wynonna asked slowly, raising one almighty eyebrow.

 

Waverly rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Yes,  _ Nicole _ .”

 

A slow smile took over Wynonna’s face. “Well, good. Glad you figured it out.” She grunted while she tried to dig around in her pocket before holding out a wad of crumpled bills. “Here kid. It was all I could swing after the utilities and stuff. Pick out something nice.”

 

“Really?” Waverly took the bills, unwrinkling them with excitement. “Oh my god, thank you!”

 

“My pleasure. Now get out of here. And tell Nicole she owes me alimony if she’s leaving me.”

 

“Wynonna,  _ please _ . Dear god, enough.”

  
  


+++

  
  


Nicole was sitting on the front stoop when Wavelry pushed her front door open. “I was going to pick you up,” Waverly sighed, hopping down to join her as they headed for her car. “It’s too long of a walk.”   
  


“I was out anyways,” Nicole shrugged.

 

Waverly shot her a look. “You better not have been out all night. You could’ve just come over, you know.”

 

“Enough about me! We’re on a mission. C’mon, off to that formal dress shop on 47th that we will never be able to afford.”

 

Waverly let Nicole pry her door open for her and waited for her to return to the passenger side. When they were settled, Waverly fiddled with the radio to try and catch that one station that she could sometimes get. “Why would we go there?”

 

“Fake it ‘till you make it, Waves. C’mon, maybe I’ll shoplift something for you.”

 

Waverly pointed her car toward 47th. “You absolutely will not.”

 

“Wait, stop. I love this song.”

 

“This is radio static.”

 

“Yeah, and it’s always stuck in my head.”

 

Waverly smiled. She’d missed this.

  
  
  


+++

  
  


Lisa’s was the kind of upscale that made Waverly want to vandalize things. But she’d probably just spent too much time around Nicole. Even from the first moment they walked in, Waverly could tell the sales clerks were trying to covertly follow them. About every twenty seconds, someone asked if they were looking for anything in particular. What she really wanted to say was, “clearance racks”. But she figured that was a one way ticket out of there, so instead she said, “just browsing, thanks.”

 

“We’re browsing,” Nicole echoed aggressively.

 

One dress in particular caught her eye - soft pink, attractive cut. Simple. She fingered the material while Nicole tried to see how many of the expensive silk scarves she could wear at once. Diane the Sales Clerk appeared to be having an aneurysm nearby.

 

Curious, Waverly dug around for a price tag. She was afraid for a moment that she wasn’t going to find one. Wynonna had always said that if something doesn’t have a visible price tag, you definitely can’t afford it. Of course, when she  _ did _ locate the price tag, it wasn’t much better.

 

_ “Jesus _ ,” she cursed, jerking her hand back like she’d been burned. And she supposed she kind of had been.  _ You’re poor. Burn. _ She sighed. The change in her pocket probably wouldn’t have covered the sales tax.

 

Nicole was wearing about thirty scarves when Waverly spared her another glance. “How do I look, Diane?” She asked seriously.

 

“Miss, if you’re not here to buy anything I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she ground out.

 

“First of all, it’s  _ Doctor _ . And second of all-”

 

Waverly came over to start pulling scarves from around Nicole’s neck. “Sorry,” she said quickly, “we were just leaving.”

 

“-we were just leaving,” Nicole agreed pompously. “But my father, the Duke of Wales, will be hearing about this.”

  
  


+++

  
  


Waverly waited until they were thrown out on their asses to burst out laughing. “I can’t take you anywhere,” she giggled.

 

Nicole shot her a grin, practically glowing. “Sorry. Did you find anything before Diane gave us the boot?”

 

“I found a price tag that took ten years off my life.”

 

Nicole pretended to dust herself off, then offered the crook of her elbow to Waverly. “Well, c’mon then. Let’s try the one by the supermarket. They seem like they might be persuaded to spit in my direction.” Right when she took her elbow, Nicole’s gaze drifted off over Waverly’s shoulder. “Oh, great,” she muttered.

 

Stephanie Jones was standing in front of the dress shop like the second coming of the antichrist. That is to say: with an impeccable manicure and her rich daddy on speed dial.

 

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” She asked, scandalized.

 

Waverly smiled sweetly. “Oh, you know: poor people things.”

 

“I heard you’re going to prom with Champ,” she said disdainfully. “Cheating on him already?”

 

“Oh, me? Just escorting a beautiful lady.” Nicole winked. “What about you? Looking for a date? I could be convinced. I look great in lavender.”

 

Stephanie made some noise of disgust before pushing into the store. Waverly watched her go, too giddy to pay her much mind. “She didn’t answer you.”

 

“I think it was a yes,” Nicole grinned. “Lucky me. She might be a monster, but she’s pretty hot.”

 

Waverly tightened her grip on Nicole’s arm, unexpectedly miffed by the comment. “Her? Oh, please. You could do much better.”

 

“You think?”

 

Waverly scoffed. “I  _ know _ . You’re funny, tall, and cute.”

 

“Oh I am, am I?”

 

“Shut up,” Waverly said, fighting a blush.

  
  


+++

  
  


The next place was more reasonable, but even Wynonna’s generosity couldn’t cover a full ticket-price dress. Not even close. But they had a good time trying on ugly paisley ties together and teaching Nicole how to walk in heels. Nicole had a bag of nickels that she painstakingly counted out to buy them a basket of fries at Jay’s Diner across the street.

 

“How long have you been saving those?” Waverly asked from across the booth.

 

Nicole shrugged. “Easy come, easy go.”

 

“Well, thank you. I’m having a good time.”

 

“Hey me too. Totally worth it,” Nicole winked and it was  _ nothing _ like when Champ did it.

 

Eventually, they ended up where Waverly always thought they would: at the Village Discount thrift store, sorting through misshapen hand-me-downs and bins of horrendously outdated and stained antiques. Nicole leaned across the bin of dresses they were double-teaming and sighed. “Maybe you could make something?” She tried. “Or alter something ugly to be...not ugly?” She propped her face on her hand. “Why must we have money to obtain goods and services.”

 

Waverly shrugged and held up a wedding dress. “How much you want to bet someone died in this?”

 

“I don’t take bets I know I’ll lose.” Nicole sighed even harder. “I’m sorry, Waves. We’ve looked everywhere. I wish I could help you, but I’m running out of ideas. Today was a waste.”

 

Surprisingly, Waverly found she didn’t mind all that much. “It’s not a big deal. It was fun anyways.”

 

Nicole rolled her eyes and pushed her hair away from her eyes, staring out across the isles of discount clothing wistfully. Waverly took the opportunity to stare openly. She wondered, not for the first time, what Nicole  _ would’ve _ worn if Waverly had accepted Nicole’s original offer to accompany her to the dance. As friends. Of course.

 

They would’ve had a good time, Waverly thought fondly. In fact, she was certain that if they had gone together Waverly really wouldn’t have cared at all what she was wearing.

  
  


+++

 

Waverly tried to convince Nicole to come home with her and spend the night, but she’d gotten a pained look and insisted she had to do some things at home. It was a lame excuse, but Waverly didn’t want to push her too hard after mending bridges. She tried to forget that after she’d pulled away from the curb, Nicole had taken her hand off the front door of her apartment building and headed in the opposite direction, disappearing around an alleyway.

 

Wynonna was right where Waverly had left her when she arrived home, just with more dishes around her and a blanket on her lap. It was the first day off she’d had in nearly a month.

 

“Hey, kid. How’d it go?” She called.

 

Waverly smiled to herself while she hung her purse on the pegs by the door. “Good. I had a lot of fun.”   
  


Wynonna turned with one arm on the back of the couch. “Fun? Did you get a dress, though?”

 

“No,” Waverly chuckled. “That didn’t go so well. But it was still fun.”

 

“Only Nicole could manage to make  _ that _ fun,” she muttered. “At least you had a good time on your date.”

 

It would’ve been far too much energy to correct her, so Waverly just shrugged and kicked her shoes off. “So, what are you going to wear, then?”

 

“Honestly? I have no idea,” Waverly said, plopping on the couch next to her. “I might be kind of screwed. What would you do?”

 

After a few moments, Wynonna pushed her dishes aside and snapped her fingers. “I can do you one better. Follow me.”

  
  


+++

  
  


“Behold,” Wynonna gestured grandly at her closet.

 

Waverly beheld.

 

“Your closet?”

 

“Yeah, it’s pretty empty now that Nicole’s not in there,” she said, digging into the back corner of one of the racks. Waverly couldn’t help but think that there never would have been much room in there for Nicole to begin with. As Wynonna dug around, she began tossing things over her shoulder. Waverly watched various garments sail past her head with mild interest until Wynonna emerged with a pristine dress in plastic wrapping.

 

“Ah hah!” She declared, brandishing the dress.

 

Waverly gaped. “Oh my god, where did that come from?”

 

“It was my prom dress,” Wynonna shrugged. She tossed the expensive garment carelessly in Waverly’s direction so she had to scramble to stop it from landing in a heap. “You can have it if you want.”

 

“I want!”

 

“She wants!” Wynonna mocked. “Anyways, you can alter it if it’s not right. I was much more gifted in the...chest department.”

 

Waverly glared, but cradled the dress close to her. “How the hell did you get such a nice dress?”

 

“I stole it.”

 

“Wynonna!”

 

“What? You asked,” Wynonna muttered. “Now take good care of it, our family is unlikely to develop wealth anytime in the next seven generations. And I lost my virginity in that dress.”

 

“Stop! Stop! No you didn’t. You were naked! Please don’t ruin this.”

 

“No, I was definitely still  _ in _ the dress.”

 

“God, no. Please god, no.”

 

Wynonna tapped her forefinger against her chin for a moment, then shook her head. “Actually, that was my  _ homecoming _ dress. Nevermind, this one’s clean.”

 

Waverly shot Wynonna a dirty look and retreated to her mirror to admire it held up against herself. The feeling that she was being messed with warred violently with the knowledge that Wynonna could also very well be telling the truth. But desperate times and all that.

 

“So how’s my ex-lover?” Wynonna asked. “Nicole doing alright?”

 

“Don’t call her that,” Waverly snapped.

 

“Touchy, touchy.” All of the discarded clothes were balled into a big pile and shoved into a corner of Wynonna’s closet. “But seriously, how’s she doing?”

 

“Well, we both apologized. Things felt mostly normal,” Waverly shrugged. “I just – am I being a bad person for going out with Champ? Nicole said it was fine, but she says that a lot. Especially when she’s not fine.” Waverly worried the plastic covering the dress between her fingers and sighed. “I don’t know.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Wynonna nodded as she flopped back onto her bed next to Waverly. “And maybe Nicole is lying. But you know what? All you can do is trust her. If she needs to address it, she’ll tell you. Or not. That’s still on her, you feel?” Her head turned to give Waverly a long look. “Do  _ you  _ think Champ is a good person?”

 

“I don’t know him that well,” Waverly admitted. “But it’s not a big deal. It’s just prom.”

 

“Yeah. You’re right. Just – if you get a bad feeling remember not to pawn your friendship for the first boy to be nice to you. It’s worth more than that and you’re getting sold a bad deal.”

 

“Do you think I’m doing that right now?”

 

Wynonna laughed fondly and reached out to push try and push Waverly off her bed. “I don’t know things. Feel it out. That’s all you can do.”

 

Waverly hummed, not convinced. Why did everyone always assume the right decision was so obvious to its maker as it was to it’s judges.

 

“And I’m not trying to sway any decisions,” Wynonna continued, digging her foot into Waverly’s spleen. “But if you decide you don’t want to go to prom  _ with  _ Champ, you can still just go. He’s not your magic ticket in.”

 

“He is a little bit,” Waverly laughed. “I’d hate going alone, Chrissy has a date, and Nicole’s told me on numerous occasions that she’d rather wax her eyebrows off then attend prom.”

 

“And you know what?” Wynonna pressed, “I’d bet a whole lot that she’d change her mind for you. Just saying.”

 

“She wouldn’t,” Waverly scoffed. “She  _ hates  _ stuff like that.”

 

A sudden, loud groan startled Waverly for a moment before she realized Wynonna was heaving herself up to glare down at her on the bed. “Okay, I want to be the detached, find your own way kinda guardian. But jesus christ. You know that kid’s in love with you right? Like, holy shit. I cannot sit here in good faith and keep a secret that goddamn obvious. I can’t even keep a secret in  _ bad  _ faith. In fact, she’d probably date  _ Champ  _ if you asked her to. Dear god, woman!”

 

Waverly opened her mouth to deny it all because – well, it was all a bit ridiculous, right?

 

“No,” Wynonna cut her off. “Don’t say anything. Just hear my words and nod your head. I’m not saying you have to be in love with her in return.  _ She’s  _ not saying that and I wouldn’t either. I’m just saying, let’s stop pretending it’s not a thing. When you hook a fish, you either reel it in or cut it loose, Waves. Especially when it’s an incredibly kind, devoted fish with a tender fish heart. Alright?”

 

Waverly nodded dumbly.

 

“You want to know something horrifying? I’ve kissed Nicole and it was...well, it was  _ skilled _ . Do you know how unclean I feel saying that? Very. Don’t make me ever repeat that. Ugh. I’m going to jail. Okay, I’m leaving now. Just-“ Wynonna stopped, flustered with her hand on the doorknob while Waverly gaped at her. “Just be a better fisherman, Waverly!” She snapped, jerking the door closed behind her, even though it was her own room. Which Waverly was now trapped in.

 

+++

 

Everything is ruined, Waverly thought cheerfully as she sat in bed staring at her ceiling and wishing it wasn’t three in the morning. Wishing she’d managed even a  _ wink  _ of sleep since she’d laid down at ten. 

 

Everything was just so much. It’s not like she didn’t  _ kind of  _ know that Nicole was kind of in love with her. But it’s one of those things that becomes a fixture in your life if you leave it be long enough. Just part of the furniture.

 

Nicole wasn’t furniture, though.

 

God, Waverly  _ was  _ a bad fisherman. It had always felt so conceded to address it, though. Like, what if Nicole had been mostly joking? She was just a good person and Waverly liked to believe that Nicole would’ve been that kind to her even if she hadn’t been in love with her. It’s hard to address something that you don’t even know for certain. And what if she brought it up and Nicole just laughed at her? Like, gee why would anyone be in love with Waverly Earp? How bold of you to assume. Champ wasn’t anything that great, but at least she  _ knew  _ he liked her.

 

Not that – not that she would’ve…with Nicole.

 

_ Oh?  _ Her brain asked.  _ You want me to replay the kiss between Nicole and your sister in vivid, remastered full color glory across your eyelids for the eight thousandth time tonight? Say no more! _

 

“Fuck you,” Waverly whispered fiercely into the darkness.

 

I mean, if she was gay she would know it. Right? It’s something you just  _ know _ . If she was gay, she would’ve gotten a notarized letter in the mail welcoming her to gayness with a little pin and an invite to an ice cream social.

 

_ The kiss again? Done!  _ Her brain delighted.

 

Waverly switched tactics. What would even attract her to Nicole anyhow? She didn’t know how to be gay! Instructions unclear. Maybe she should kiss her just to find out if she felt anything.

 

_ Order up! _

 

Waverly watched Nicole kiss Wynonna again, miserably. The way Nicole held her face firmly, but still soft. The way her hair brushed forward to touch her cheeks. The way she was just a little too tall – she had to lean a bit down. The way she smiled against Waverly’s mouth and-

 

-Uh,  _ Wynonna _ .

 

_ Um. _

 

Oh no.

 

+++

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagine my own juvenile dismay and disappointment when i realized that you do not, in fact, receive a gay hogwarts letter notifying you that you are, officially, a homosexual. its all very inefficient isn't it?


	6. part vi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are at the end again. which is good, because that means we're also close to the beginning of something else, i'm sure.
> 
> thanks for tagging along.

_ part vi _

 

+++

 

Nicole watched Champ suspiciously from the safety of an alcove in the doorway of the history classroom. She hadn’t  _ intended  _ to spy on him, but when she heard them coming toward her in the empty hallways during second period, she’d ducked away to avoid any unpleasant interaction.

 

Champ was an imbecile and had questionable choice in friends and the hilarity of “pranks”, but she could  _ try _ . She could try, for Waverly. He was so dumb, he probably genuinely thought Nicole and Bobo had a charming back and forth. And he’d never been the one to hurt her.

 

But she was absolutely not going to be trying  _ today _ . Too soon.

 

They stopped at the intersection of two hallways near Nicole’s hideout and she held her breath.

 

“Champ, seriously. Cindy already said she’d love to go with you,” Bobo hissed. “I don’t know if you’re holding out for a homerun or something, but it’s getting embarrassing. You  _ cannot  _ take that Earp girl to prom.”

 

Champ laughed like it was a joke. “Chill, Bobo. It’s whatever.”

 

“Oh, it’s  _ ‘whatever’ _ is it?” Bobo said dangerously, his sneakers squeaking against the tiles. “Everyone is laughing at you behind your back. What are you going to do, date? Marry? Four kids? A nice hobo lean-to on the west side?”

 

Champ finally seemed to get uncomfortable, clearing his throat and letting out a breathy laugh. “No! It’s not – geez. Is everyone really laughing at me?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“Well – whatever. Who cares?” Champ said weakly, like a man who cared very much. “I’m Champ! They’ll get over it. It’s just prom. And she’s totally in to me. I just want to ride it as long as it’s still fun.” Nicole tried to disappear as Champ departed, walking right past her down the hallway without even looking up.

 

“Yeah, I bet you’d love to ride it,” Bobo muttered, left alone. “She’s nothing, Champ!” He called after Champ’s back. “She’s garbage and you’re embarrassing yourself!”

 

Champ didn’t respond – he was already gone.

 

And Nicole wasn’t really sure how it happened, but suddenly she was landing on Bobo’s back in a flying tackle, beating him about the head with bruising knuckles while he squawked indignantly. They fell to the ground with a painful jolt to her hip and then they were rolling, pulling at each other’s clothes and swearing. Nicole got in a solid thump to his cheek right before he pinned her and blackened her eye. It was probably a good thing that the period ended then, because it was unlikely the fight was going to end in Nicole’s favor.

 

When a teacher tore them both apart and shoved them into opposite lockers, Nicole spat at his feet and took off into the crowd. If they wanted to bust her chops for it, they knew where to find her.

 

+++

 

It would’ve been in bad form to go back to ignoring Waverly again after reconciling just a few days prior, but Nicole considered it briefly. Her eye was a nasty blue and there was no fashion to cover that.

 

Well, actually-

 

+++

 

“Take your sunglasses off,” Waverly laughed, leaning over the cafeteria table with a bemused expression. “What’s with you?”

 

If it hadn’t been raining terribly outside, they could’ve eaten lunch outdoors and everything would’ve been fine. But life does this funny thing where it stabs Nicole in the back at every possible turn.

 

“It’s called  _ fashion _ , Waves,” Nicole sniffed. When she went to take a bite out of the sandwich Waverly had brought for her, Waverly reached out and snatched the sunglasses from her face.

 

Waverly gasped dramatically, which was pretty much what Nicole had been trying to avoid. “Nicole!” She fretted, reaching forward to hold Nicole’s face gently. “Oh my god, what - who-”

 

“Nothing, nothing,” Nicole scoffed uncomfortably. When she tried to pull away, Waverly followed her across the table, practically laying across its length to maintain her grip. “Waves,” she attempted to lay on the charm. “Just a minor disagreement.”

 

Waverly glared harder, but her hands remained soft. “Nicole, who did this?” She demanded. “It’s not nothing! Someone punched you in the face!”

 

“Is that what it looks like?” Nicole laughed nervously. “That’s wild. Who would punch me in the face?”

 

“Exactly! Who would punch you in the face?!” Waverly tilted her face down and traced a gentle finger around the affected area. “You tell me right now, Nicole Haught. You tell me who hit you.”

 

“You should really see the other guy.”

 

“Nicole Haught, you tell me. I swear to god.”

 

Carefully, Nicole pried Waverly’s hands away from her face and held them in front of her. “Let it go, Waverly,” she entreated. “What are you going to do? Punch him back?”

 

+++

 

“Robert!” Waverly roared, causing every head in the hallway between sixth and seventh period to swivel towards her. The murmurs quieted and Bobo turned to look down on her disdainfully. He opened his mouth to say something smarmy, but Waverly’s knuckles were already on a direct collision course with his face.

 

And Wynonna had actually been dead on.

 

_ It’s all in the follow-through. A bad hit will hurt. A good hit won’t hurt. But a really good hit is gonna  _ really _ hurt. _

 

And it  _ really _ hurt.

 

Bobo fell back into the lockers, flat on his ass. His nose was spewing blood down his expensive white shirt while the entire student body stared in silence.

 

“Fuck!” Waverly cursed, shaking her fist out desperately. She danced in place a bit, overwhelmed by the pain in her knuckles.

 

“Oh my god,” Nicole whispered behind her.

 

“What is going on here?” The ancient Mrs. Weebly tittered, walking under the elbows of a sea of students who stood twice as tall of her until she appeared in front of them. Her massive, horned glasses slipped down her nose and she pushed them up with a shaking, frail hand.

 

Bobo let out some wounded noise and sat up against the lockers. “She  _ sucker punched me _ ,” he growled, kind of nasally and really quite difficult not to laugh at.

 

Mrs. Weebly smiled at him. “Oh, I don’t care, dear. Everyone back to the barracks. We’re deploying in four hours,” she advised them.

 

“You stay away from her,” Waverly growled, cradling her knuckles while Nicole hovered anxiously over her. “Next time I’ll  _ kill _ you.”

 

“You’d better listen to her, Jonathan, she took out a squad of twenty Nazis just to make it back for the dinner bell,” Mrs. Weebly clucked, hobbling off toward her classroom. “At ease.”

 

“Yeah,” Nicole said shakily. “Twenty Nazis.”

 

Waverly gave Bobo one last dark look, before grabbing Nicole’s wrist and leading her back toward the bathrooms to cry about her broken knuckles where nobody could see her.

 

+++

 

Waverly sniffled while Nicole held her hand under the freezing tap water. “Am I still a badass?” She asked tearfully.

 

Nicole smiled. “Of course you are. Badasses are allowed to cry when they break their knuckles.” She handed Waverly a paper towel to blow her nose and dry her eyes.

 

Waverly accepted with her non-broken hand and dabbed at her face. “Thank you. You don’t think I killed him do you?” She asked nervously. “He was bleeding a lot. What if I have to go to jail?”

 

“Oh, my tender-hearted hero,” Nicole chuckled. “You didn’t kill him. Broke his nose at best. And he’ll be far too embarrassed to get you in trouble for it.” She sighed and turned Waverly’s hand over to prod gingerly at the joints. “You know you didn’t have to do that, right?”

 

“Yes I did. He’s not getting away with that any more,” she sniffled. “Give me a few weeks of intensive bed rest and psychotherapy and then I’ll do it again,” she warned tearfully.

 

Nicole laughed sadly. “Okay, tiger. Fluffy slippers and hot tea for three weeks then you kill a man in cold blood.”

 

“I wanted to be a lot cooler about this.”

 

“Cooler? I don’t know, doll, that was pretty cool.” She turned the tap off and squeezed Waverly’s wrist to get her attention. “I was trying to tell you before you laid him out flat like that, but...uh. Well, you know...when he punched me? I kinda attacked him first. It was a little my fault.”

 

“Why did you attack him?” Waverly blinked.

 

Nicole pursed her lips, looked off to the side and took a moment to invent something. “Uh. No reason. Just for fun.”

 

“For fun.”

 

“Yeah, for fun. You’ve done it. Tell me it wasn’t fun.”

 

“Nicole, tell me he’s never hurt you before that.” Waverly said firmly. When Nicole just made some high-pitched noise of non-commitment, Waverly snorted. “Exactly. I don’t care what you did to him or why. I know you and I know that whatever happened is his fault.”

 

Nicole rolled her eyes fondly, but let it go and turned the faucet back on over Waverly’s hand. Class had started a while ago, so they were alone in the bathroom and all was quiet. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to attend any more classes that day after what had happened. When she’d confronted him and smashed his face in, she’d felt a surge of adrenalyn so powerful she thought she’d never sleep again. But only a few minutes later, it’d left her so forcefully she was seriously considering laying down in the corner of the lady’s room and taking a thirty hour nap. Ditching school completely and leaving the grounds was a terrifying possibility, but sounding better by the minute.

 

Of course, even if she  _ could _ sleep, Waverly was consumed by the notion that maybe she didn’t know as much about Nicole as she always assumed she had. How many times had Bobo hurt her? How much had Waverly simply not noticed? Waverly felt sick.

 

“Nicole, can you be honest with me?” She asked carefully. When she got a puzzled look in return, she waded in gingerly. “I know you don’t want me to worry about you, but I really need to know - for my own sake - if Champ’s ever hurt you. I need to know why you don’t like him.” Nicole opened her mouth, but Waverly rushed to add, “We needed to have this conversation better the first time. I won’t jump down your throat for it - just please be honest.”

 

Nicole closed her mouth and leaned back against the neighboring sink, releasing Waverly’s hand. She crossed her arms and nodded seriously. After letting out one long, slow breath, Nicole regarded her without the veil of her normal defenses. “Yeah, alright.”

 

“Alright?”

 

“Alright.” She pushed her hair away from her eyes and shrugged. “Bobo is an actively terrible person - mean-spirited and cruel to the root of him. Champ, though? He’s just an idiot. I don’t think he’s cruel or purposeful in anything he does. He thinks it’s all a big joke and he likes hanging around Bobo because they come from the same world and it affords him popularity. I don’t  _ hate _ Champ. He’s never been cruel to me. But his ignorance for what he unwittingly condones and participates in certainly doesn’t make him a  _ good _ person.”

 

Waverly nodded slowly, quietly processing.

 

“Not being a bad person did not qualify him - to me - as good enough for Waverly Earp. Most people aren’t bad people. But they also aren’t  _ good _ people. You deserve way better than that. And I made a mistake thinking that it was my job to  _ qualify _ people to be good enough for you. It doesn’t change my opinions on him. But it also doesn’t mean that the way I tried to gatekeep what’s good for you was right.” Nicole turned away from Waverly to look out the little warped window high on the walls that faced out toward the back of the school. “I am sorry about that. But as long as we’re talking, I hope you know that I didn’t hate him just because I was jealous.” She laughed quietly to herself. “Well, that wasn’t the  _ only _ reason I hated him, anyway.”

 

Waverly’s brain helpfully supplied the graphic image of Nicole kissing Wynonna again. She really needed to have a word with whoever was in charge up there. She didn’t need any help with her gay crisis, thanks. If there was one thing she was good at as a seventeen-year-old girl, it was being in crisis.

 

“Well what  _ do _ you think I deserve?” Waverly asked quietly. When Nicole tried to dismiss her, Waverly added, “I’m  _ asking _ this time.”

 

Nicole smiled at her sadly. “I don’t think there’s much you  _ don’t _ deserve.”

 

“I wish,” Waverly said thoughtfully, “I saw in myself what you see in me.”

  
  


“I do too.”

  
  


+++

  
  


That night, Waverly sat in front of her crappy telephone and stared intently at it’s chipped dial, rehearsing what she was going to say and agonizing over the details. If she was going to torpedo the only relationship she’s ever sort of been in, she was going to do it after careful thought. She was going to get the truth and handle it maturely. If it went badly, she wasn’t going to be well enough to punch his face in for another month at least.

 

Determinedly, she dialed Champ’s number and waited through the empty dial tones until his voicemail receiver picked up. “Champ,” she said firmly, “call me. We need to talk.”

 

And then she hung up. Short, sweet, and to the point.

 

And if she left about eight more voice messages over the next two days to a similar effect? Well, a girl could only be ignored so long before she got grumpy.

  
  


+++

  
  


“Geez, you really did bust them,” Nicole admired Waverly’s splint. “Now I’m embarrassed. You’re way tougher than me.”

 

Waverly groaned and attempted to lob an old coffee tin into the quarry. It fell sloppily short from her weaker, non-dominant hand and she pouted. “Wynonna was excited that I’d punched him out, but she said I definitely had my thumb in the wrong place. The hospital bills alone are going to absolutely murder us.”

 

“No they’re not. Wynonna uses a fake identity with some dead lady’s social security number when she goes to the hospital.”

 

“What - how-” Waverly held up a hand and closed her eyes. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

 

Nicole nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably best. In case the feds ever come knocking.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

Nicole didn’t seem all that bothered as she hurled a huge glass jug out into the abyss. “Wynonna tries not to worry you with these things.”

 

“But she worries you?”

 

“Sure, why not?”

 

Waverly died quietly inside while she was subjected to Nicole kissing Wynonna for the thousandth time. The whole thing was taking years off of her life. She shot Nicole a nervous look and watched her parcel through garbage like she was shopping at a high end department store. “I, uh…”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Remember when you, uh, kind of sort of...kissed...my, uh, sister?” She managed to get out of her mouth somehow. She tensed up, waiting for Nicole to turn back towards her.

 

She did so with great drama, and little speed. “I...did what now?”

 

“You kind of...uh, kissed Wynonna? At Shorty’s? When I was there with Champ?”

 

Nicole leaned in close, staring hard into her eyes the way she’d used to do to get Waverly to break into giggles when she was attempting to get away with a lie. When Wavelry only stared back nervously, Nicole finally blinked and relented. “Oh my  _ god _ . I did that, didn’t I?”

 

“Yeah,” Waverly confirmed, adjusting her splint awkwardly.

 

“I kind of thought that was a weird dream,” she mumbled to herself, standing back straight and staring off into the depths of the quarry. “Goddamn.”

 

“You don’t remember? You uh...really went for it.”

 

“Kind of?” Nicole barked out a laugh. “I thought it was just a peck! I was pretty drunk. One important question.”

 

“What?”

 

“Did I use tongue?”

 

“Nicole!”

 

Nicole cackled and swung a beer bottle out past the shopping cart by its neck so it shattered against an unfinished cement pad. “I mean, first kiss. I gotta know if I was any good. Did it look hot? Please, be honest. I need pointers.”

 

“I’m not doing this with you,” Waverly said, covering her mortified face with both hands, splint and all. “I  _ can’t _ do this with you. Not now.”  _ Not while I’m in gay crisis _ .

 

“Well, what did Wynonna say about it?”

 

“Inappropriate things! What do you think she said about it!?”

 

Nicole laughed harder, unable to sense that Waverly was, in fact, dying a slow, ugly death. “This is priceless.”

 

“This is my worst nightmare.”

 

“What’s the big deal?” Nicole scoffed, quite unaware that the big deal was that it  _ was _ hot. That she  _ was _ good. That Waverly couldn’t stop seeing it happen in fine detail every moment of the day. That Waverly wanted it to have been  _ her _ .

 

Oh, god. She wanted that. That’s what she wanted.  _ That _ was the problem.

 

“Don’t be jealous, Waves. Wynonna’s a million years old. I bet your first kiss will be a lot better.”

 

“I already had my first kiss,” she said quietly, miserably.

 

That got Nicole’s attention. “Huh? What? When? Who?”

 

“Champ. That same night when he dropped me off and asked me to prom.”

 

The chink in Nicole’s confidence was brief - a quick skip on the record before she was smiling and picking back through garbage. “Well how about that. At least you remember yours. How was it?”

 

Waverly tried to summon the same adrenaline - the same excitement and maturity she’d felt after it happened, but couldn’t remember much to brag about. “Fine. He was really stiff. And he just kind of...tasted like...mouth.”

 

Nicole howled with laughter. Rather than embarrassed, Waverly felt relieved to have shared it with her. She joined in weakly and reached for a can with her more frail hand. “Oh, laugh it up,” she grumped.

 

“Speaking of Champion, what’s up with you two? Figured out prom yet?”

 

Waverly lobbed a weak throw. “I don’t know, he won’t call me back. I think he’s avoiding me.”

 

“Maybe he’s afraid you’ll break his nose too.” Nicole grinned at her. “You have a pretty fierce reputation now, Ms. Earp.”

 

“Good,” Waverly said firmly.

  
  


+++

  
  


Fueled on whacked-out hormones, end stages chronic gay panic, and terminal poverty, Waverly found she didn’t have the patience left to confront Champ. She couldn’t wait around forever for him to return her  _ dozens _ of calls. And if she thought she was going to be able to corner him at school, she was sorely mistaken. For how little Champ seemed to plan anything in his life, he sure had a good plan to make sure he avoided her at every turn. If she didn’t know any better, she might’ve even been impressed.

 

But he couldn’t hide forever.

 

They can run but they can’t hide.

 

“Champ!” She snapped, springing out from behind the railing of the side stairwell that she figured he must have been creeping up to avoid the main arteries between classes.

 

Champ jumped literal inches off the ground and slammed backwards into the wall, white from being caught. Waverly took the higher ground on the step above him, blocking his escape route up to the second floor physics lab. And also, so she didn’t have to yell at him from nine inches below. But mostly to block his exit.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she accused, crossing her arms for good measure.

 

The gaul of that boy to look sheepish. The gaul to seem apologetic. The gaul!

 

“Oh, hi Waverly,” he simpered. “Can’t believe I keep missing you, I’ve just been-”

 

“Don’t start with me,” she cut him off. “Can you at least do me the courtesy of not treating me like an idiot?”

 

Champ’s mouth shut with an audible snap and he blinked at her.

 

“What were you going to do, just avoid me until prom night and then show up on my doorstep like nothing had happened?”

 

Tellingly, Champ’s eyes fell to his feet and stuck there. A few minutes of uncomfortable silence passed until things started to click into place.

 

“You…” Waverly swallowed down that needling demon in her head that said she was never going to have been good enough anyhow. She swallowed it back the same way she’d been doing since her mom left and her peers grew into their cruelty enough to realize how different Waverly Earp was from the rest of them. How much less she was worth. “You weren’t planning on taking me to prom anymore. You’ve changed your mind.”

 

He shrugged a little and kept talking to his shoes. “I just forgot I’d promised someone else a long time ago. And then we were both busy and stuff. It’s not a big deal. It just didn’t work out.”

 

“No.” Waverly ground her teeth together. “No! You don’t get to do this. I came here to tell you off for other things. I came here to tell you to go to hell and you lead by rejecting  _ me? _ This is bullshit!”

 

“Waverly, please-”

 

Waverly leaned in closer like maybe she could force him to look her in the eyes. “No, you be quiet. I can see now how I embarrass you. I can see that you care too much about what other people think of  _ Champ Hardy _ to ever assign me worth that might  _ degrade you _ . I can see it and even though I think you’re a spineless chew toy, you’re going to stand there and let me say what I came here to say, because you’ve still hurt me. I can know what you are and still not be able to stop myself from being hurt by what you think of me. So shut up and let me finish.”

 

Champ nodded dumbly.

 

“I just want you to know that Bobo is a  _ jerk _ . He’s not funny and the things he does to other people is cruel. You’re an idiot for hanging out with him and I don’t want to be with someone who can’t see that. If I ever find out that you had a part in hurting Nicole, I’m going to break your nose too, Champ Hardy.”

 

Waverly shouldered past him roughly to head down the stairs, which probably looked cooler than it was since it was like shouldering a steel wall. Her shoulder smarted, but her pride was well intact. And what wouldn’t she sacrifice for that these days.

 

Halfway down the stairs, Waverly turned back to regard Champ’s frozen form over her shoulder. “You might be embarrassed to have been with someone like me, but I want you to know that it’s nothing compared to the embarrassment I feel at letting someone like you be a part of my life.”

 

When she left that stairwell, she’d never felt less like looking back.

  
  


+++

  
  


“Waverly!” Wynonna called up the stairs, hollering like she did when Waverly was a little bit in trouble.

 

Waverly groaned into her pillow where she’d planted her face instead of doing her homework and rolled over. Rather than holler back, she dragged herself out of bed and slouched toward her door. It was better to get it over with.

 

She cracked the door and watched Wynonna stop halfway up the stairs. “What?” She mumbled.

 

“Did you really break Del Rey’s kid’s nose at school?” She asked sternly.

 

Waverly considered briefly what kind of excuse she might’ve offered, but was really too tired to play games. “Yeah,” she shrugged. “I guess so.”

 

Wynonna broke into a sly grin and gave her thumbs up. “Proud of you, kiddo. Unofficially, of course.” She turned to head back down the stairs. “On paper, though,  _ super disappointed _ . But only if CPS comes around.”

 

Waverly let out a dry laugh and moved to close herself back in her room. Before she could, however, Wynonna called up from the bottom step.

 

“Hopefully Champ’s afraid of you now. I only date men who fear me.”

 

“I broke up with him,” Waverly said warily.

 

“Oh?”

 

“I deserve better.”

 

_ “Oh?” _

 

“Yeah, I’ll break his nose too if I have to. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty unstable right now.”

 

“ _ So _ proud.” Wynonna shook her head fondly and headed for the kitchen. “And they said I couldn’t parent.”

 

+++

 

“I taught myself this from a book in the library,” Nicole said offhand, ineptly tossing the ingredients of Wynonna’s skillet over a too-high flame on the old gas burner. “It’s called  _ flambé _ .” She lifted her eyebrows and swung a bottle of some cheap cooking liquor in her opposite hand. “It’s French for  _ homosexu _ á _ l,” _ she said in a truly terrible French accent.

 

Waverly sat at the kitchen table with her head propped in a tired hand and her Chemistry textbook open in front of her. “I’m really certain it’s not.”

 

“Waverly, can’t you just let me know things sometimes.”

 

Waverly rolled her eyes and went back to staring blankly at her text book like if she stared hard enough at the pictures maybe she would absorb the knowledge through osmosis. She couldn’t focus, though. It was like every time she looked at Nicole, she was a little dumbstruck. Like,  _ are you actually in love with me? For real? _

 

Present evidence made it hard to believe that anybody could actually feel that sort of way about her. And Nicole carried on like always, so what was she meant to think? How was she meant to address it? Should she?

 

“Watch this,” Nicole said forebodingly, before dumping the open neck of the bottle into the spitting oil in the skillet. The food caught in a  _ woosh _ and roar, flames leaping up toward the little flowered curtains covering the window above the stove. Nicole yelped as the flames got higher and made a frantic move to crank the little window open before hurling the entire skillet into the backyard. When she noticed that the ends of the floral curtains were smoldering dangerously, she yanked them off the tension rod and hurled them out the window too.

 

_ I am in love with her _ , Waverly thought resignedly, watching her destroy their kitchen.

 

Nicole shot her a wide-eyed look. “Well. In my defense, those curtains were really ugly.”

 

“They were,” Waverly conceded.

 

Nicole leaned up on her tiptoes to peer out the window. “I mean...five second rule?”

 

“Do you think I should still go to prom?” Waverly asked, apropos of nothing. “Even after everything?”

 

Nicole removed herself from the window and came to sit across from her at the kitchen table. “Do you still want to go?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Waverly said honestly. After everything, she hadn’t found the capacity to sort out her feelings. It all seemed so silly, really.

 

Nicole reached out and closed the chemistry text book, taking both of Waverly’s hands in her own with an encouraging smile. “I think that you already have a pretty dress, you’ve broken a man’s nose with your bare knuckles, you’re a very cute dancer, and half our grade is afraid of you now. Of  _ course _ you should go,” she grinned. “Champ was basically an accessory. Now you just have less to fit in your purse when you go.”

 

“I love you a whole lot,” Waverly whispered, not as convincing as she wished it was. Not the way she  _ wanted _ to say it.

 

Nicole sniffed pompously. “I know. I’m so loveable, you see.”

 

“I see,” Waverly agreed warmly.

 

“Now help me find some replacement curtains before Wynonna gets home.”

  
  


+++

  
  


“What are you all dressed up for?” Waverly asked suspiciously, watching Wynonna put on her good lipstick. The expensive stuff. The  _ tip me 40% _ lipstick. “It’s not illegal is it?”

 

Wynonna sent her a flat expression. “Not everything I do is illegal, Waves. It just so happens that I have a date tonight.”

 

“Oh yeah? A date with a real person you like or a date with a sucker?”

 

“A real date,” Wynonna clarified with a roll of her eyes. “With a real gentleman. I swear, Waves. He’s employed, he’s heterosexual. The next time you see me I’ll be picking out my china patterns.”

 

“Mazel tov.”

 

“His name’s  _ Xavier _ . Who gives their baby such a sexy name? I haven’t figured out if that’s like, his porn name or his Christian name. Joke’s on him, I’ve already got an ex running a background check on him from the Sheriff’s station.”

 

“Please stop.”

 

Wynonna let out something suspiciously close to a cackle and moved to stand in front of the entryway mirror to adjust the finer points of her appearance. Underneath it all, Waverly was surprised to find that Wynonna  _ did _ seem genuinely excited about her date. She hoped he deserved her. “Have you ever loved anyone?” Waverly asked haltingly.

 

“I love you, don’t I?”

 

“No, I mean - have you ever been  _ in love _ with someone?”

 

Wynonna thought about it for a moment then shrugged. “I thought maybe I was. But that’s not always enough. I think when I am, I’ll be much more sure about it.”

 

“Wynonna, I think I might be a little gay.”

 

“Yeah, you’re a  _ lot _ gay. Ayo!”

 

Waverly frowned.

 

When she didn’t get some retort, Wynonna turned to find her sister in a state of silent, tense disappointment. “Wait, seriously?”

 

Waverly frowned a little more pointedly and kept her eyes directed forward, unable to face her sister in that moment.

 

“I’m sorry, kiddo. You know how awful I am.” She dropped her purse back on the hook and came to sit next to Waverly on the couch. “Is this about Nicole?” She asked gently.

 

Busted.

 

“Maybe a little.”

 

Wynonna reached around to pull Waverly’s head toward her own shoulder and keep her there in a half hug. “Well, you know I love you. And I love Nicole. And I love the idea of you never being within twenty feet of another man for the rest of your life.”

 

“Wynonna.”

 

“I’m serious. I love everything about you, now and always. Except when you unplug the lamp to use your curling iron. But otherwise, I’m over the moon every time you find something in your heart that you want to share with me and the people who deserve you. Knowing you, you haven’t told Nicole yet. But I can guarantee you, she’s going to be over the moon too. But in a gay way.”

 

Waverly sighed and wiped her sniffling nose on the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t thank me. Just find a different outlet for your curling iron.” She kissed the top of Waverly’s head and stood to finish getting ready.

  
  


+++

  
  


And so, because Waverly was a brand new person with a brand new attitude and had learned that sometimes the best way to solve your problems is to punch a boy in the face, she pulled on Wynonna’s old dress, did up her hair the best she knew how, and spent hours perfecting her makeup. She picked herself up at 8:00 p.m. after a dinner of cold cereal and drove herself over to the highschool with her solo prom ticket.

 

+++

 

Nicole stood in front of the mirror, frowning and chasing her indecision around in circles in her brain until she was dizzy. She pulled at her outfit a few times. It wasn’t the time for cowardice. It was time to act.

 

+++

 

Waverly was doing really well with the whole ‘I don’t need no man’ thing until she handed her ticket to one of the school safety officers at the front door and made her way into the atrium. It was only when she’d made it past the atrium full of tittering girls in their moms’ heels and some light, youthful screeching that she found herself outside the gymnasium very much alone. And she didn’t need anyone. She really didn’t. But it had been a tough year and a long month and she never really pictured that year ending with her alone and confused in an expensive dress outside the thumping, strobing doors to prom.

 

Her hands twisted together anxiously, all sweaty, and probably a significant threat to Champ’s current title.

 

Oh god, Champ. She hoped she didn’t see him in there.

 

What was she doing? This was idiotic. High school was not the place to make a  _ statement _ . High school was the place to do the opposite of that! High school was the place to never do anything remarkable or out of place and hope that nobody ever looked at you!

 

She’d made a mistake.

 

Waverly wiped her sweaty hands surreptitiously on the sides of her dress and turned to beat a hasty, hopefully unnoticed, retreat. She could always tell Nicole she’d gotten kicked out for more violent martial arts. That wasn’t the most unbelievable thing that the new and improved, gayer Waverly Earp might do.

 

She’d only gotten maybe three steps down the hallway when she finally looked up and stopped dead in her tracks. Nicole was standing there, just twenty paces off, twisting her hands together and looking at Waverly with a nervous smile. She was done up slicker than normal, stood out like a sore thumb against the other girls lingering in the atrium down the hall and jumping around past the window in the gymnasium. When Waverly remained frozen just a beat too long, Nicole offered a small, awkward wave.

 

“What are you doing here?” Waverly breathed.

 

Nicole puffed her cheeks out and looked upward, away from Waverly to get through her explanation. “Well. I lied.”

 

“What?”

 

“I lied,” Nicole shrugged. “When I told you I wouldn’t be there for you when Champ ended up leaving you. I lied.”

 

“Nicole,” Waverly said, because she couldn’t really think of anything else to say.

 

“I can’t  _ not _ be there for you. I just love you too much. In a…” Nicole made some vague, concerning hand gestures. “In a kind of...romantical, not-friend way. You know? But also in a friend way. In a lot of ways, actually. I just wanted you to know. For real this time.”

 

Waverly’s heart gave a painful lurch, her stomach swooping dangerously low before bobbing back up. Maybe she was going to be sick? That was love, wasn’t it? Abominable illness?

  
  


“I know I’m not like, the most traditional date,” Nicole pressed on, talking twice as fast and twisting her fingers so hard it looked like they might snap off at the knuckles. “And you don’t have to feel any kind of way about me. I just - I mean - what was I doing all those years? You deserve to  _ know _ you’re loved. That’s - that’s pretty much it. I know you don’t need a date, but I wanted to be here for you. Not be at home for you. I’ll like, hold your purse and bring you punch and stuff that a date is supposed to do for you.”

 

Waverly began taking slow steps forward while Nicole stumbled through every feeling she’d ever had, in public, like she didn’t give a damn. Like it wasn’t one of the bravest things Waverly had ever seen.

 

And she would know. She’d punched a boy in the face once.

 

When her legs confirmed that they did, in fact, work, Waverly sped up and cleared the distance between them at almost a jog. Nicole talked faster the closer Waverly got, her hands snapping stiffly to her side like she thought maybe she was about to get punched too. Instead, Waverly used her broken knuckles to pull Nicole’s face down and kiss her in full view of the fluorescent-lit lockers and scuffed linoleum hallways of their high school. It didn’t feel like an act of bravery at all.

 

It just felt like  _ finally _ .

 

There was a moment when it felt like Nicole was going to politely pull away, end on a good note and begin talking again. Of all things. But Waverly didn’t feel like talking and was  _ very _ glad when Nicole just pushed in again and pulled her closer. All they’d done for years was talk and that was quite enough of that.

 

Unlike most things in life, the way Waverly had imagined it in her head didn’t even come close to the reality. She wasn’t thinking about all of the awkward components that made up the mechanical process of kissing a person. She wasn’t thinking at all. Waverly had never  _ not _ thought. But it was official: Waverly was never going to think again. It only ruined everything.

 

When Nicole pulled back just far enough to rest their foreheads together and let out a little laugh, Waverly fought the urge to reel her back in. She was getting good at this whole fishing thing.

 

“What...was that for?” Nicole wondered, twisting a bit of Waverly’s hair between her fingers.

 

“That was for you. From me.” Waverly licked her lips. “And for me. Also from me.”

 

“Am I meant to read anything into it?”

 

“I’d like that,” Waverly sighed, content.

 

Waverly realized belatedly that they were swaying to the muffled slow dance ballad leaking from under the gymnasium door. Nicole’s forehead left Waverly’s and she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “So, um. Do you...like me? In...a not-friend kind of way. Romantical. And such.”

 

“Yes, Nicole,” Waverly exasperated. “In a romantical, not-friend kind of way.”

 

“Score.”

 

“C’mon, dork. Let’s go get some punch and rate the chaperones’ outfits,” she giggled, dragging Nicole along through the double doors into the thick of it.

  
  


+++

  
  


Of all things, Champ found them. His bowtie was tied rather poorly, but his suit was otherwise expensive and well tailored. He asked to speak to Waverly privately, polite and entreating in a way that left Waverly more than capable of turning him down without hard feelings. The raw, cut edges of Nicole’s tough life grated against the invitation. Some retort rose up her throat with the urge to grab Waverly’s arm and lead her away. But as much as the world had taken from her, she didn’t need to take back. So she smothered it, and looked to Waverly.

 

Waverly took a few moments to consider it, before nodding hesitantly and following him to a neighboring unoccupied table. Nicole watched, sipping suspiciously on her punch and waiting for something bad to happen. But as she sat there watching them talk earnestly, politely, she felt that unquenchable injustice fizzle out. Waverly loved her. She’d kissed her!

 

Things were going to be good. Nicole smiled and went to get more punch.

 

When she got there, Stephanie Jones was struggling to refill her cup and that of her friends, while juggling ridiculous heels and perfectly curled hair. Nicole smiled at her and reached out to refill the glasses for her. Only the twitch of something ugly showed on Stephanie’s face for a moment, before she blushed and stared down into the refilled cups.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured, her shoulders rising up to her ears while she beat a hasty retreat.

 

Nicole refilled her own cup and sipped at it, smiling at Stephanie’s retreating back. “I warned her I looked good in lavender,” she chuckled to herself.

  
  


+++

  
  


“We could try again,” Champ offered with an apologetic shrug. “I was being an idiot.”

 

“Yeah, you were,” Waverly agreed, not unkindly. “But I don’t think so. I appreciate your apology, but I’m with someone else now. We never had much in common anyways.”

 

“Well, we’re both very good looking,” Champ joked.

 

Waverly smiled. “We definitely are.”

 

“Alright, well. I would’ve been a bigger idiot not to try, at least,” he said with finality, standing and dusting off his slacks. “Enjoy the dance, Waverly.”

 

With a little wave, Champ melted back into the crowd of swaying high schoolers and out of Waverly’s mind. She turned in her seat, watching Nicole snap to a smart looking salute for Mrs. Weebly. Mrs. Weebly nodded imperiously and moved to straighten Nicole’s outfit with ancient, shaking hands. Then she patted Nicole on the cheek and hobbled away to beat some frisky upperclassmen about the shins with her cane.

 

Nicole spotted Waverly watching her and waved enthusiastically, accidentally upending some of the punch on the floor. When she tried to balance the two cups and bend down to wipe up the mess, she ended up spilling them both everywhere.

 

_ I am in love with her _ , Waverly thought contently.

 

The two of them were going to dance badly to a few songs, hopefully kiss some more, then do it all again the next day. And the day after that. And probably for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t going to require any bravery at all, really. Maybe it never had. Waverly was seventeen, you see. She just knew things.

  
  


+++

 

_ the end. _

 

+++

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what i really wanted you to get out of this is that when someone's mean to you, you should probably punch them. and they said i couldn't be a good parent.
> 
> cheers pals.


End file.
